


A Twisted Life: Rob & Bella

by ObsessedtwibrarianOTB



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 219,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6438922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB/pseuds/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can an ordinary fan girl bring a sense of peace to Robert's chaotic life since the Twilight mania began? (Based on the real public life of Robert Pattinson. Fictional elements take place BEHIND the scenes away from the public eye.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue & First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story in 2010, at the height of the Twilight mania. Not much was known about Robert Pattinson at the time so I took up the challenge of writing a story about him, placing him into real life situations (I had an entire file detailing every single one of his public appearances for 3 years!), and pairing him with a fictional character of my own creation. I had very strict rules about how to write this, the main one being that I couldn't have anything happen to Robert in my story that hadn't happened to him in real life. So, it was a delicate balance to keep his public life factual, while adding fictional elements behind the scenes. P.S. Robert was very much aware that there was fan fiction out there written about HIM, (not Edward). He mentioned this specifically in an interview, so any criticism that it's unethical to write a story about this particular real person, isn't relevant here. In fact, he seemed mystified that anyone would WANT to write about him, since he feels that he's a pretty boring person in real life. LOL 
> 
> Also, this story is complete at 46 chapters. I got to a point where my fascination with him started to wane, helped along by the cheating scandal during the Breaking Dawn years. Therefore, just know that this story stops abruptly with just a summary at the end detailing the resolution I always envisioned for this couple. Even though I never finished it, I still think you will enjoy the journey.

 

**PROLOGUE**

**November 18, 2008**

**ROB...**

 

What the hell happened to my life? I just woke up one morning and it was gone.

A year ago, I was almost broke, singing and playing guitar in pizza joints and bars just to have enough money to eat. All the good acting jobs had dried up after the last Harry Potter film. Nobody knew who I was; I could walk down the street and no one would notice me. I was halfheartedly considering doing something with my music, but wasn't really motivated enough to get it going. I was just drifting, until my agent called about an audition I should do in the U.S.

Now, a year later, with several million in the bank, more job offers than I could have ever imagined, and girls screaming and throwing themselves at me everywhere I go, I think I might be fucking miserable.

And I knew for a fact that I was lonely as hell.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 **CHAPTER 1: First Sight**  
  
  
**ROB...**

I've finally figured out where my life went. This monster I call fame, or celebrity, or whatever else you want to call it, has devoured it. And, as I was beginning to find out, that monster has a voracious appetite.

I'd been working seven days a week since filming on Twilight ended and post production started. Every day, getting up at 5:00 AM, sometimes earlier, going from interview, to photo shoots, to post-production meetings, to more interviews, to autograph signings, to more photo shoots, to airports, to meet and greets with hundreds of screaming girls, to more airports, more screaming girls, to meetings with my agent, to more post-production meetings. You get the picture, right? I was fucking exhausted.

Don't get me wrong. I am extremely appreciative of the opportunities that have come my way. I've met so many genuinely nice and talented people. A lot of doors have been opened for me that were closed tight before. I'm having more fun than I've ever had in my life, most days, anyway. I'm thankful everyday for every single one of my cast mates. They're like my second family. 

But there's a dark side to fame, a side that no one, except those who have experienced it, ever sees. I've met a lot of shallow people, wannabes whose only talent in life is hanging on to other people's success. Every aspect of my life has come under scrutiny. I can't go anywhere or engage in even the most mundane of activities, without a camera in my face or fangirls following me around. Let's just say, my eyes have been opened, and I sometimes loathe what I see.

It's November 18, 2008, the night of the Twilight premiere in Brentwood, California, the ultimate all-you-can-eat buffet for the monster. Sitting in the back seat of a limo, only half listening to my publicist ramble on with his instructions and my itinerary, I was starting to get a bad case of the nerves. _Focus, Robert._ As we approached the area where I would be making my entrance, I stared out the tinted windows, astonished. _Holy shit! How many people are out there?_

Just then, my publicist announced, after quietly conferring with someone on the other end of his cell phone, that there were at least two thousand fans out there. The exact number was unknown. And that wasn't counting how many people would be watching it on television. He was grinning from ear to ear. This was the kind of thing that gave publicists super massive hard-ons, and gave people like me panic attacks. _  
_

I took a deep breath and focused. I started listening— _really listening_ —to my publicist and his assistant. It was mostly stuff I already knew: he would guide me through the interviews, making sure no one took too long, did anything unacceptable, etc., etc., there would be security around me, I would have to spend some time on the carpet, there would be some brief contact with fans, some autographs, and as he continued to drone on, my attention drifted once again. I gazed, wide-eyed out at the sea of faces, no single one distinguishable from another. _What do all these people want from me?_

I must have inadvertently spoken aloud, because the publicist's assistant, Cathy, laughed quietly. She was an attractive blonde whom I had just recently discovered was actually a nice person. She was an absolute professional as far as business was concerned, but, unlike many in this business, she actually cared about the people she handled. I considered her a friend.

She leaned forward and patted my knee as she spoke. "They want _you_ , Rob," she said, with a suggestive smile. "Just do that thing you do so well: stand there, look good for the cameras and smolder. They love that. Just think of it as a photo call times ten. You've done those before, piece of cake."

_Uh huh, right._

That was when my publicist piped in with the standard company lecture I'd heard a million times before. "Robert, the fans are what drive this franchise, never forget that. Be courteous to them at all times, unless you feel unsafe. Give them autographs, be gracious, smile for their photographs, and don't say anything negative about the fans, Summit, the cast, or the franchise in general," he continued. This was the most important part of the lecture, a fact I'd had to learn the hard way, when I'd made a couple of unfortunate gaffes in the past.

"By negative, do you mean like, 'Why the fuck are you people here?' or 'Whose crazier, the mothers or their jail bait daughters?'" I asked with a smirk. He glared at me for several moments before continuing with his spiel. He should know by now that I'd never really say shit like that. I loved my fans. I just didn't understand them…at all. Oh, and have I mentioned that my publicist was a prick and has absolutely no sense of humor? I lived for these moments.

Finally the time came for me to start my way down the gauntlet. I left my brain at the door and stepped out of the limo into the warm evening. The next couple of hours passed quickly in a haze of camera flashes and hysterically screaming girls. I gave the perfunctory interviews, answering what seemed like the same questions over and over again. I pressed the flesh with the fans, shook hands, posed for countless photos, and sometimes just stood there in the middle of that huge red carpet feeling like a total idiot. I felt like I should at least be doing something, anything. I could sing, dance, maybe juggle? _This is insane!_

It was as I was moving down the barrier, shaking random hands and quickly scribbling autographs, that I saw her. I stopped briefly, my mind not registering what my eyes were seeing. She wasn't like the other girls around her: she wasn't screaming, wasn't straining to touch me, wasn't asking me for an autograph or even shouting my name. She was just staring calmly at me with huge brown eyes. _Holy shit! She looks exactly like… What the hell?_   Unfortunately, I didn't have time to think about what I had seen. My publicist was quickly at my side, urging me to move on. It wasn't long before the memory of her completely left my mind, swept away by the chaos and noise.

Sometime after that, I began to feel strangely detached from reality. It was as if someone else was in my body, going through the motions and trying to appear normal. My mind had vacated the premises. I was also starting to feel faintly light-headed. Luckily, my publicist announced that it was time to leave and steered me back to the limo.  I was quickly shuffled into the back seat of the car, where I immediately lay my head back on the seat and closed my eyes. My heart was pounding and the lightheadedness was getting worse. I heard someone asking me if I was all right, and I remember telling them to just give me a minute to relax.

I lay still, my eyes shut, as the car moved smoothly through the night. The peace and quiet was heavenly. I would have given my right arm for a nap. I started paying attention to the quiet conversation in the car and realized, to my dismay, that I was being whisked to a premiere after-party. I sighed quietly. That's what I got for not paying closer attention to my publicist. Maybe I could get by with simply putting in an appearance, and skipping out after an hour or so.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, we arrived at some hotel, where I was hurried into a side entrance to a set of private suites. I could hear the loud music as we approached. Once inside, I saw that the entire place was wall-to-wall people, by invitation only, I was told. There would no screaming fans or irritating reporters in attendance.  I was startled to see quite a number of celebrities much more famous than me. I wasn't even in the same league as these people. I couldn't believe they would take time out of their busy schedules to come to this party. I was relieved to see some familiar faces, and was steadily making my way through the crowd to speak to them, when a waiter placed a drink in my hand. I took it, thankfully, hoping it would help calm me down.

The next hour was more of the same: loud music, even louder conversation, and lots of alcohol. By the time another hour had passed, I was sweating in the press of bodies, and feeling lightheaded again and slightly nauseous. I worked my way through the crowd of people, searching for the bathroom. Unable to find it, I satisfied myself with simply leaning against the wall in a quiet hallway, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm myself.  Cathy found me there a little while later, and I convinced her to get me out of there, just tell everyone I was sick, which wasn't far from the truth. She didn't take much convincing; I must have looked like hell. She quickly left and returned minutes later with the welcome news that a Summit car was on the way to take me home. She was going to arrange for me to leave by a back exit, just in case someone had discovered the location of the party.

Minutes later I was on my way out of the building with an impressive security escort, waiting impatiently for the impossibly slow elevators, rushing down what seemed like endless empty hallways, and finally bursting out of an isolated door marked "For Employees Only" into the empty street.  At least, it was _supposed_ to be empty. We were met by a small crowd of fans and reporters, screaming and yelling questions at me, with no barriers to keep them back. I heard one of the security men behind me telling someone to call the police, while the others steered me into the open door of a waiting car. Once inside, with doors locked, the car was literally swarmed by people. It was almost impossible for us to move, but the driver, God bless him, was determined. When the crowd realized that it was either move or get ran over, they made the smart choice.  

Once we were on our way, one of the security guys asked if I was all right. My heart was once again pounding out of my chest, and my nausea had returned with a vengeance. I knew I was visibly sweating, but other than that, I was physically unscathed.

"Yeah, thanks. I'm fine," I said, breathing deeply, brushing my fingers through my hair.

"Wonder what those girls would do with you if they actually got their hands on you?" one of the security guys asked, smiling knowingly at me and snickering. I just stared silently back at him. That was something I tried not to think about.

"Man, this is some life you live," he said, still smiling. _Yeah. It's a fucking wild ride. Especially on nights like tonight._

Thankfully, the rest of the ride was quiet and uneventful. In less than a half an hour, the car pulled up in front of my place. I was never so glad to see that tiny, overpriced apartment as I was at that very moment.  I thanked the driver and the security guys and watched as the tail lights disappeared quickly down the street. I hurriedly unlocked my door, and then shut and locked it behind me. I leaned back against it in the darkness, my eyes shut, drinking in the cool air-conditioning and savoring the complete and utter stillness of the empty apartment.  

But in that quiet darkness, the panic that I had been fighting to control all evening finally slammed into me full force. I ripped off the jacket and tie, throwing them to the floor. As I rushed down the hall to the bathroom, I pulled off my shirt, ripping buttons off in the process, and threw it against the wall. By the time I reached the bathroom, I was sweating, shaking all over and the nausea was rolling through me in agonizing waves.  I braced myself with one hand against the wall over the toilet, and fought, in the darkened bathroom, to control the panic welling up inside me. The nausea was worse than ever, and I tried taking deep breaths to stop it, but my chest was too tight. Unable to fight it any longer, I gave up and spent the next minutes retching into the toilet.

When there was finally nothing left to expel, I leaned back weakly against the opposite wall and slowly slid to the floor, and was left sitting with my knees drawn up under my chin. I didn't know how long I sat there trying to beat back the panic, but eventually I won the battle. My heart beat slowed, and my chest loosened. I spent the next several minutes deep breathing and finally felt the shakiness leave my body.

I hadn't had a panic attack in a long time. The last one of note was on the set of my last movie, _Little Ashes,_ when I had had to film a very explicit sex scene with my male costar. But even that one couldn't compare to this. This had been a bad one. It had left me spent, both physically and emotionally.

I slowly got to my feet, testing the readiness of my body to get back to normal activity. I was shaky, but nothing I couldn't handle. I turned on the light, splashed cool water on my face, brushed my teeth, and stopped to look at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like shit, plain and simple. Not for the first time, I wondered what the hell those screaming girls saw in me. There were so many flaws in the face looking back at me, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about them tonight. I sighed. What I really needed was about a week of uninterrupted sleep, but that wasn't going to happen. I had a 5:30 AM wake-up call for a day of interviews and photo shoots tomorrow.

_Fuck it. I'm going out._

It was past midnight. My body was exhausted, but past experience with panic attacks had taught me that sleep would be long in coming. I needed to go somewhere calming, somewhere where I could completely relax and let my body and mind heal itself. I knew the perfect place.

I went into the closet in my bedroom, looking for something appropriate to wear. Unable to find anything clean, I grabbed some clothes I'd thrown in the floor the other day. They were scruffy looking, rumpled, and smelled like stale cigarettes. Perfect. I quickly changed, grabbed a worn hoodie and glasses, snatched my car keys from the dresser and quickly left.

My battered BMW and I hurdled through the dark, early morning streets. The bar I was heading for was located in a remote part of the city. I had discovered it several months ago quite by accident. The bartender and I had struck up an immediate friendship, and he was more than pleased to learn that I could play guitar and sing. I had spent many a night on that lone barstool on the small stage, playing and singing my heart out, not caring whether anyone was listening, or even if they liked it. That wasn't why I did it. Music was comfort food for my soul. It healed me when things were going wrong, and I needed healing tonight.

My life, I suddenly realized, was like a rollercoaster. I had been slowly inching my way to the top, anticipating that moment when I would reach the summit. Well, I had finally reached it, the highest point in the ride. I should be excited, the most exhilarating part was just ahead. I was one lucky bastard. Yes siree. I had everything I could ever want.   _Then why do I feel like there's this big fucking hole in my life and there's absolutely nothing I can do to fill it up?_

I never expected to find the one thing that was missing in my life on this night. I only wanted to escape the chaos of my existence for just a few hours. But as I was soon to discover, music was not the only thing that could heal a hurting soul.

 


	2. Confession

 

**ROB...**

Of all the bars in all the cities I'd been in, I loved this one the most. As soon as I walked in, the sounds and smells enveloped me in a warm blanket of peace and comfort. This place, with its low ceilings, dim lights and smoke-filled rooms, was my haven in L.A. The bartender was a good friend who always watched my back. I had no idea how he did it, but he kept the fans and groupies away and allowed me to have a few hours of uninterrupted peace.

Here I wasn't a celebrity; the regulars knew me and never bothered me. If I so desired, I was left completely alone to drink, play a lone game of pool, whatever. And on nights when I felt the need for some company and conversation, they welcomed me to their tables with open arms just like I was one of them. On the nights I needed to be up on that lone barstool on the stage they listened, or they didn't—it made no never mind to me. Occasionally someone would whistle or yell a compliment across the room when I finished a song, but for the most part, they politely left me alone.

I pushed the hood back from my head as I walked past the bar, heading for a small table in a dark corner of the main room. I gave an up-nod and a small smile to the bartender as I passed. He quirked his eyebrow at me and gave me a silent toast with the Heineken bottle in his hand. He looked confused and also slightly amused at the same time. He must be wondering what in the hell I was doing there, tonight of all nights. That was the beauty of it. No one would be looking for Robert Pattinson in a small, out-of-the-way back alley bar on the outskirts of L.A. on the night of the Twilight premiere. I chuckled at the thought.

I wasn't in the mood for companionship tonight, so I sat down at the table with my back to the room. My favorite waitress soon approached, pad and pencil in hand. She'd had a brief bout of Teenage Fangirl Syndrome when she'd waited on me for the first time, but since then she had always been polite and professional. I ordered a beer and told her to keep them coming until I said otherwise.

I dug in the pocket of my hoodie, searching for cigarettes. I had a habit of keeping packs of cigarettes stashed away in various places in my apartment, car and clothing. You never knew when you might need one, and I hated having to frantically search for one in the middle of a raging nicotine fit. I lit up and drew the smoke deep into my lungs, closed my eyes, and sighed with contentment as I blew the smoke back out.

The waitress arrived with my beer just after that. I focused all my attention for the next few minutes on getting to the bottom of that glass. The quiet sounds of muted conversation and glasses tinkling together provided a soothing backdrop for the endeavor. When that first glass was empty, a slim, tanned hand quickly placed another one in front of me. God, I loved that waitress. I made a mental note to leave her an exorbitant tip.

I was nearly to the bottom of the second glass when the sounds of a guitar tuning up broke my focus. I glanced over my shoulder and instantly recognized the guy getting ready to perform. I had heard him play and sing before. He was surprisingly good, and had a distinctive voice that left a lasting impression on anyone who heard it. I turned back around, smiling to myself, and settled in to enjoy the early morning hours with some good music and even better beer.

I was really beginning to get into the soft, bluesy song he was singing, when I became aware of a group of loud, giggling girls coming into the bar. I glanced quickly over my shoulder, frowning at this unwanted intrusion into the comfortable atmosphere. Not wanting to make eye contact with anyone tonight, I quickly turned back around and focused on my drink.  I listened reluctantly as they loudly made their way across the room to a table far from mine. One good thing about this place was that the bartender wouldn't put up with that shit for long. They'd either quieten down or he'd kick them out.

I sighed and drained the glass to the very last drop. I really needed another drink, but when the waitress arrived with a replacement, I waved her off. I grimaced at the thought of having to drag my ass out of bed at 5:30 AM with a hangover. Although, it wouldn't be the first time I'd done it.

I wasn't sure how much time passed as I listened, with eyes closed, to the smooth rhythms of the guitarist and smoked my cigarette, but somewhere along the line I got that prickly feeling you get when you feel like someone is standing behind you. Whoever it was, I chose to ignore them.

"Hello," said a quiet, obviously female, voice behind me.

 _Fuck. Please, not tonight. Just leave me alone._ Any other night I would've have gladly turned around, signed an autograph, posed for a picture, whatever she wanted. I just didn't want to deal with fangirls tonight. The words of my publicist echoed in my head: 'The fans are what drive this franchise. Be courteous to them at all times. Give them autographs, be gracious, blah, blah, blah.' I ignored her anyway.

"I know who…" she said quietly. She spoke so softly, in fact, that I didn't catch everything she said. My stupid curiosity forced me to turn around and see just exactly who it was that could so easily ignore my rude ass. I was pleasantly surprised. It was Kristen! What was she doing here? I wondered how she wiggled out of the after parties? If there was one person I'd make an exception for tonight, it was her. She was a great listener, easy to talk to, and could be funny as hell. I never could figure out why the media made her out to be such a bitch.

I briefly thought about asking her if she wanted to go somewhere else more private. If the wrong person saw us together, it would be all over the tabloids tomorrow that we'd spent the night together or some other stupid nonsense. Neither one of us needed that shit, but where could we go? There was nowhere to hide in this city where there weren't cameras. I decided we were probably safer here than anywhere else.

"Hey!" I said, smiling. "Have a seat." I gestured to the empty chair across from me. "Want a beer?" I asked as she sat down in the chair and scooted it forward.

"No, thanks," she said quietly.

"Cigarette?" I asked, digging the pack back out of my pocket.

She just shook her head silently and smiled back at me. _Huh. Usually Kristen's a lot more fun than this. Wonder what's wrong?_

"Shouldn't you be with…" I snapped my fingers like my memory had suddenly failed me. "...what's his name again? Mike something or other?" I asked laughingly. Her and Michael Angarano had been dating quite awhile. So naturally, everyone believed it was pretty serious.

"Mike?" she asked with a confused look. Then she laughed quietly. "No, Mike's just a good buddy."

 _Really?_ My eyebrows must have shot over the top of my head, because that was certainly news to me.  "Did you guys split up?" I asked, frowning. She looked at me, confused again, but instead of answering, she dropped her eyes and concentrated on something nonexistent in her lap. _Ok, something's wrong._

"Oh, Jesus. It's this Twilight shit, isn't it? It's finally come between you two," I said as I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "I'm really sorry. You know, all our lives are just spinning out of control right now. I don't know how you guys kept it going as long as you did." She was still looking down at her lap, unwilling to look me in the eye. "He knows we're not seeing each other, doesn't he? I mean, surely he doesn't believe all that shit about us in the media?" I asked, worrying that I might inadvertently be the cause of their breakup. Kristen and I were together, a _lot_. I often wondered how Michael felt about that, but I had never brought the subject up with her.

"I don't know what you mean," she said quietly. She lifted her eyes briefly to mine and then quickly dropped them again.

 _Guess she doesn't want to talk about it. That's cool._ "So, who are you with?"

"I came with some friends. They're over there," she said. I threw a quick glance over my shoulder, but didn't see any familiar faces.

"Oh…friends," I said, nodding. "Well, I hope they don't want autographs or anything, because I really want to avoid people tonight. Except for you, of course," I added hastily, smiling.

She nodded quietly and sighed. She placed her hands in her lap and stared hesitantly back at me. _Kristen's acting fucking weird tonight._

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a beer or a cigarette?" I asked again.

She shook her head and smiled. "I don't drink or smoke, Robert."

 _Yeah, right._ I looked at her quizzically. Was this the same Kristen talking who had gotten totally shit-faced with me one night up in Oregon? We'd sat around her dining room table, in her rented apartment, supposedly going over the script and rehearsing. What we'd ended up doing was drinking Jack Daniels, laughing our asses off at the stupidest things and generally making total fools of ourselves. Luckily, no one else had been around to witness it but us. And what was with all this 'Robert' shit? She always called me 'Rob'.

"Kristen, quit messing with me. Remember that night during rehearsals that we got totally wasted? You can't have forgotten that." I laughed.

"Kristen?" she asked, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "I'm not Kristen."

I stared at her, narrowing my eyes in the dimly lit room to get a better look. I studied her features and got the shock of my life. Well, fuck me! She _wasn't_ Kristen. She had long, wavy brown hair just like Kristen's, but upon closer inspection, I could see the subtle differences. Her face may have been a little more rounded than Kristen's. Her nose just the tiniest bit wider. Her lips were maybe a little bit fuller, but it was her eyes that clinched it. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed before. They were huge and brown— a warm, chocolate brown. Kristen's eyes were green. She hated the brown contacts she'd had to wear while filming. She would never have worn them unless she was forced to. So, if this girl wasn't Kristen then who the hell was she? Something tugged at the back of my mind but I just couldn't put my finger on it, until, all of a sudden, the memory came rushing back. Hers was the face in the crowd at the premiere tonight that had surprised the hell out of me!

"Were you at the premier tonight?" I asked. _Something very weird is going on._

"Yes. I drove down with my friends to see it, and to see _you,_ " she answered quietly.

I stared at her a few moments, still trying to get my mind to accept what my eyes were seeing. "Has anyone ever told you that you look almost exactly like Kristen Stewart?" I chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she said, laughing shyly in return. "But we really don't look exactly alike, not if you look closely." I stared at her, dumbfounded. I had been up close and personal to Kristen for months. I couldn't believe I'd been fooled. There were definitely differences, but it was amazing just how closely she resembled her.

I shook my head and smiled. Now that I knew she wasn't Kristen, I found myself thinking about her. As far as first impressions went, she was nice, _really_ nice. She wasn't like the regular groupies I'd met since my life started spiraling out of control. She seemed very down-home, comfortable, sweet. Her eyes were mesmerizing, and on the plus side, she definitely was not one of those crazy, screaming teenagers. I'd had my fill of those lately. If she was available, maybe we could hang out.

"What's your name, then?" I asked, extremely curious now.

"Bella," she said simply.

 _Oh, hell no. No fucking way._ So much for first impressions. What I had been afraid of had finally happened. This person sitting across the table from me was a real live psychopath, a delusional teenager who had let this Twilight shit take over her life. I had to seriously ditch this girl. I wracked my brain for a way to make a graceful exit and get the hell away from her. The safest thing, I told myself, was to pretend there was nothing wrong. Unstable people like this could go off the deep end with just the smallest provocation. They were notoriously unpredictable. Shit! She might even be a stalker! There were tons of horror stories of crazy fans stalking celebrities.

I silently thanked God that I was an actor. None of my panicked thoughts or emotions showed on my face. If there was ever a moment I wished I could really dazzle someone like Edward Cullen, it was now. I smiled, turned on the charm and spoke to her in a calm, smooth voice.  "Don't you need to get back to your friends?" I asked. _Please God, let it be that easy._

She rolled her eyes and laughed aloud. "Not right yet. Besides, I really need a break from Jessica."

A wave of déjà vu swept over me and then was gone as quickly as it had come. What the fuck is going on? Obviously exhaustion and alcohol were clouding my reasoning ability. _Ok. Let's try again._ "So…uh," I hesitated, totally unable to say her "name", which I was sure was completely fake. "When are you leaving to go back to…where did you say you were from again?" I asked innocently, smiling warmly at her.

"I didn't," she said. "But I'm from a little town in Washington state, and I'm leaving in the morning."

I stared back at her, eyes wide, blank-faced. And then, I couldn't help it. I totally lost it. I looked straight at her and just busted out laughing. Laughed my ass off actually. Everyone in the bar turned to see what was going on. _So much for the low profile, Rob._ She looked shocked and confused at my reaction, but I didn't give a shit at the moment. This was just so surreal. I wasn't even going to ask. I knew what she was going to say: _'I'm from Forks!'_ I definitely had to get away from this girl. There was no way I was going to hook up now with Seriously Fucked-Up Teenage Fangirl here, no matter how sweet she looked. I wasn't that desperate yet.

After my laughter died down, I decided I was getting the hell out of there, like right then. "Listen, I've got an early morning tomorrow, you know, interviews and stuff. I've really gotta go," I said, still chuckling under my breath. I quickly stood and dug some bills out of my wallet for the tab and tip. "Nice meeting you, though," I added politely as I could, considering that I was trying desperately not to burst out laughing again.

As I started to turn my back and make a beeline for the door, she spoke quietly in a small, timid voice. "Did I say something wrong?"

Instead of just turning around and walking straight out of there like any sane person would, I made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Those huge, warm brown eyes were gazing up at me in confusion and filling up with tears. Damn. She had unwittingly found my soft spot; I just couldn't handle girls in tears.  I sighed and sat back down with a frown. I didn't know what the hell I was thinking, but I couldn't just leave her there crying. _I'll just talk to her a little while longer. Try and calm her down before I leave._

"Would you like a soda?" I asked.

"No thank you," she said, looking down at her lap again. _Why does she do that?_

"Will you stop doing that? Stop looking down all the time. Look at _me,_ " I said softly. She raised her eyes to mine, and brushed away a tear with her hand that was in danger of escaping.

I turned around and signaled the waitress. She arrived shortly and I ordered another beer for myself. I ignored that inner voice reminding me that I wasn't supposed to drink anything else tonight. Besides, I really needed one at that moment. We sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence as I anxiously waited for my drink to arrive. She was looking directly at me now, studying me, actually. It was a little unnerving. As the waitress placed my beer on the table, she finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to talk to you, Robert. I promise I won't ask you stupid questions or ask for your autograph, or anything like that."

I took a drink of my beer and nodded. "So…?" I continued, looking at her expectantly. I still couldn't bring myself to call her Bella. I didn't want to feed her delusion and make things worse than they presently were. "What do you want to talk about?"

"You," she answered, boldly meeting and holding my gaze. "How are you? How are you… _really?"_ she asked, her voice intent and serious.

"I'm doing ok," I said, shrugging, wondering why my well-being would matter so much to this stranger.

"You always look so tired, and sometimes, like tonight, you seem a little…overwhelmed," she said softly. "I just needed to see for myself that you were all right."

"You don't have to concern yourself with _me._ I have plenty of people looking out after me," I said with a short, ironic laugh. My agent. My publicist and his "people", Summit execs and the list went on and on. "If I so much as sneeze, someone is right there asking if I need to go to the doctor." I chuckled, shaking my head at how absurd my life had become.  "So…" I hesitated, unsure as to whether I should ask the million dollar question, but I had to know. "How did you know I was here, in this bar?" I looked down for a moment, before gathering the courage to look her in the eyes and just put it out there, right on the table. "Were you following me?"

"I…yes, I was," she said, her voice so low that I almost couldn't hear her. "But I never meant any harm to you. I'm not a stalker."

I really should have been upset at her revelation that she'd been watching me, but strangely, I wasn't. She just didn't seem to me to be the stalker type. I sat back in my chair, considering what to do next. Unfortunately, that was when I felt my inner asshole rising to the surface. It seemed to happen at the most inappropriate moments. I just couldn't seem to help myself sometimes.

"So… _Bella._ " I winced inwardly as I spoke her "name". "Back in Washington?...um…I guess you have a vampire boyfriend named Edward." I smirked. _Yep, you're a real smartass, Rob._

She looked back at me, truly startled. "No," she stammered. "I don't have a boyfriend."

 _Oh. Okay then._ I'd thought I was seeing a pattern. Now, I wasn't so sure. 

"Besides, vampires aren't real, Robert. You _do_ know that, don't you?" She laughed quietly, quirking her eyebrow at me. _Touché._ Her laughter faded quickly, and she gazed at me, more serious now. "Are you lonely?" she asked softly.

I was taken aback at her pointed question. It was like this girl, this stranger, knew my innermost feelings. I shrugged. "No more than anyone else, I guess." _This is fucking freaky._

Then she reached across the table and gently placed her hand on top of mine. I felt a tingling sensation at her touch, and a sense of peace crept slowly over me. "Tell me your heart, Robert," she said quietly, staring intently into my eyes.

And for some reason that I still don't understand, I did. I opened the floodgates on her and just let it all pour out. I confessed everything to this complete stranger, whose name I was pretty sure wasn't Bella, and who I was almost positive was absolutely crazy. She sat patiently with her hand on mine and listened to it all without comment. Occasionally her eyes would well up with tears, or she would laugh quietly, but she never once interrupted the stories pouring from my mouth. When I got to the part about the panic attack tonight, she nodded knowingly, like I had somehow cleared up something in her mind. I finally fell silent, and I felt really cleansed, for the first time in a very long while. She lightly caressed my hand, as I stared into her eyes. What was it about this girl? How could she touch my heart so easily and make me tell her things I'd never told anyone else. I barely knew her. I shook my head, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

I laughed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to dump all my excess baggage on you."

"That's all right. You needed someone to talk to, and I was here, that's all," she said, with a small, shy smile. She pulled her hand away from mine and sat back in her chair. "I really need to get back to the hotel. Could you possibly drive me?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," I said nodding. "But what about your friends?"

"They won't mind if I ditch them." She laughed quietly. Her expression puzzled me. I got the feeling I'd just heard a joke that didn't make any sense, because I had somehow missed the punch line. _I am seriously missing something here._

I put a hundred dollar bill under my glass (love that waitress!) and got up. I went to her side of the table and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled up at me as she rose. I smiled back, pleased at what I saw. She was petite, small-waisted and thin, just like I liked them.

We walked together out of the bar to my car. I opened her door for her and quickly walked around to my side and got in. "Where's your hotel?"

"It's over near LAX." That was over a half an hour away, and that was if traffic was light. At least I'd have a little more time to get to know her.  When I glanced over at her, she was grinning at me, shaking her head. "As much money as you make, can't you get a better car?"

I immediately bristled, because I fucking loved my car. "Hey, don't make fun of the BMW. We've been through a lot together, even though she _has_ tried to kill me a couple of times." I laughed, patting the dashboard fondly.

"What?" she asked.

"Yeah, the dashboard caught on fire once while I was driving. Scared the shit out of me. I nearly killed us both that day." I grinned. "And another time, the wiper things quit working in the middle of a downpour. Couldn't see a shittin' thing out of the windscreen."

She smiled, shaking her head. "You really need to get a nicer car. You have a reputation to uphold now, you know."

I sighed. "Yeah, I'll get around to it, but you have to have time to look for a car. Time is not something I've had much of lately."

"Can you turn on the air conditioner? It's stuffy in here," she asked, fanning her hand in front of her face.

I looked over at her and grinned. "Doesn't work."

She smiled, and with a sigh rolled down her window a little. The warm night wind blew her hair around her face. I kept glancing her way, watching the swirl of her hair, and occasionally catching her eyes for a moment. We exchanged small timid smiles and suddenly we didn't feel the need for conversation anymore. We rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

She expertly directed me to her motel, despite the fact that she was from out-of-town. I should have been able to find it on my own, but I had to admit to myself that I sometimes felt like a fish out of water in Los Angeles. The yearning I felt for my home in England was like an ache deep in my bones. I couldn't wait until the holidays, when I could finally get back to my family and my old friends and just chill for awhile.

I pulled into the parking lot, turned off the ignition, and listened to the quiet ticking sounds of the engine cooling. She looked at me sadly as if she didn't want to leave. I wasn't so sure I wanted the evening, or morning? to end either. She sighed and then got out. As she was walking around the front to my side, I got out also, and leaned against the side of the car.

"Thank you for the ride."

"Not a problem," I answered. We both just stood there looking haplessly at each other. Neither one of us wanted to say the word that was hanging silently in the air. I dug in my pocket for a cigarette, lit up and pulled the smoke deep into my lungs. A nervous habit.

"You really shouldn't smoke. It's not good for you," she said with a look of mild disapproval on her face.

I laughed at that. "I do a lot of things that aren't good for me. I smoke, drink too much, walk around half the time sleep deprived." _Hang out with Seriously Fucked-Up Teenage Fangirls_ , I added silently. "So…" I said, trying to think of something to say besides 'goodbye'. "Make sure you go see my movie."

Her eyes lit up then. "Oh, I'm definitely going!" she said excitedly. "A whole gang of us have tickets for the midnight show. I can't wait to see it."

I knew I shouldn't ask, but I did anyway. "Who are you going with?"

"Well, let's see. There's Angela and Ben, Tyler, Mike and Jessica. Of course, Mike's only going because Jessica is. He thinks a vampire love story is an oxymoron. And then Emily, Leah and…Jacob," she finished.

_Oh, fucking hell. I knew I shouldn't have asked._

"Bella…" I said, stopping to take a draw off my cigarette and to consider how to put this delicately. "You know that those names are just characters out of a book, fictional people in a script, don't you?" I asked. "I mean, your name isn't really Bella," I said quietly, looking into her eyes, hoping to see something there that would tell me she wasn't totally, absolutely, bats-in-the-belfry fucked-up in the head.

"They're all very common names. Just like "Bella". There's lots of girls named Isabella," she said with a mysterious smile.

I sighed. Some things were easier to handle if they were on a need-to-know basis. I decided this definitely qualified. I decided to just let it go, for now.

I was just thinking about saying my goodbyes when a totally unexpected thought popped into my head: I want a picture of her. I didn't want her to leave without having a way to remember her. I had to have something concrete to prove to myself later that this night had really happened. I dug my cell phone out of my pocket. She laughed shyly as she realized what I was doing. She posed for me, putting her hands primly behind her back, with a small smile. She was beautiful.

I glanced at my phone as I put it back in my pocket. Holy shit! It was 4:00! I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. The powers-that-be were not going to be happy with their star when he showed up in the morning with blood-shot eyes and no sleep.

"I've really got to go," I said. "I have an early interview and a flight to New York tomorrow morning." She just nodded, shifting her weight back and forth. I looked at her, and then I looked back down at the ground. An idea was swirling around in my head. A. Totally. Stupid. Idea.

 _Don't do it, Rob. Don't. You are NOT going to ask Seriously Fucked-Up Teenage Fangirl for her phone number. DON'T DO IT!_ I glanced up at her, suddenly feeling like a school boy with his first girlfriend. "Could I have your number?" I asked hesitantly.

She smiled and started digging around in her purse. She found a small square of paper and a pen and hurriedly wrote it down. She folded it in half and held it out for me. I took the small paper in my hand, and put it, unread, into my pants pocket.  

"It's a cell number," she said. "You can reach me there any time you need to. Don't hesitate to call me Robert…anytime, anywhere."

I nodded my thanks to her. _I must be out of my fucking mind._ "Well…goodnight," I said quietly.

"Goodnight," she replied just as quietly. "And Robert? Take care of yourself."

I nodded and watched her turn and walk into the hotel. I got in the driver's seat, leaned my head back on the seat and sighed. I wanted to just close my eyes and crash. I drove back to my apartment with the window down and the radio playing as loud as it would go. Maybe the fresh air and squealing guitars would clean out the cobwebs inside my head. When I finally pulled up at my apartment, I was dismayed to see a Summit car waiting. _Fuck._ I hoped it wasn't The Prick.

When I got to my front door, Cathy emerged out of the car, looking fresh as the morning dew. I groaned as I unlocked the door and left it open for her. It should be illegal for anyone to look so perky that early in the morning. Cathy strode into the living room as I was pulling off my hoodie. I absent-mindedly threw it on the couch, and stood there waiting for the lecture that I knew was coming.

"You look like something that's been rode hard and put up wet," she said, her brows drawn together in a frown.

I laughed. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means you look like shit," she declared.

"Well, why didn't you just say that?"

She looked at me for a moment, exasperated. "Rob, you look like shit," she said, finally smiling. "What have you been doing all night? Never mind. I don't want to know. Just hurry up. We've got to go."

She followed me down the hall and leaned against the door, bombarding me with a barrage of instructions. "Don't worry about shaving, the stubble looks scrumptious. And change out of those smelly clothes, for God's sake. Forget about the hair, your first interview is a radio show, and the next one they'll do hair and makeup. Are those your bags for New York?" she asked, gesturing to the corner where I had stacked my luggage the night before. When I nodded, she left the room. For what I didn't know, but I was glad for the quiet, even if it was temporary.

I started to pull off my pants when I remembered the small square of paper. I dug it out and unfolded it. It read:

_360-374-0513_

_Tell me your heart._

_Bella._

I laid it on the dresser, pulled out my cell phone and saved her number in my speed dial. When I got to the point where I had to save a name with the number, I stopped. I felt really stupid even considering entering the name "Bella", so I finally settled on the letter B. I sighed and shut my phone.

Cathy came back moments later with the driver, who carried my bags to the car. I hurriedly changed and freshened up under the almost constant scrutiny of my lovely, blonde, and sometimes annoying assistant publicist. She could be a real pain in the ass at times, but deep down I liked the hell out of her.

As we sped off in the early morning to the first of many interviews and appearances in store for me that day, I closed my eyes and reflected on the last few hours. I smiled to myself as I remembered the warmth of her eyes, the thick mass of brown wavy hair, and the calming effect of her touch on my hand.

"Anyone I know?" Cathy asked, smiling slyly over at me.

I looked over at her quizzically.

"I know that look anywhere. Who is she?" she asked curiously.

I laughed quietly and laid my head back on the seat. "Just a stranger I met in a bar. No one you'd know."

 

**MY HOODIE DISGUISE. THINK ANYONE WILL RECOGNIZE ME?**

  **MY SWEET 1989 BMW! I FUCKING LOVE THIS CAR!!**

**HERE'S B.  (I DON'T BELIEVE HER NAME IS REALLY BELLA, BUT ISN'T SHE BEAUTIFUL?) SHE LOOKS A LOT LIKE KRISTEN!**

(Bella's image was created using morphthing. It's a morph of Kristen Stewart and Rose McGowan)


	3. Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the public events mentioned in this chapter were actually part of Robert's real-life publicity junket.

**~ ROB ~**

The radio interview with Ryan Seacrest at KISS FM went pretty well, especially since no one could actually see what shape I was in. Before the interview started, they took me back into the green room to play this video game called Rock Band. I'd never heard of it or played it before, so of course I sucked at it. It didn't help that I was trying to figure out how to work the stupid guitar with zero hours of sleep.

In the actual interview, Ryan asked a lot of personal questions about me and Kristen. I hated when interviewers did that. I was contractually obligated to Summit to talk about Twilight, and myself, to a certain extent. I was not contractually obligated to be a dumbass—that I managed to do all on my own. Ryan asked me if Michael was on set when Kristen and I were filming. I laughed and said something stupid, like, 'Oh yeah, he was gettin' into it'. God, some days I shouldn't even be allowed to open my mouth. Kristen was going to kill me for that one.

The next stop was an interview for a teen magazine. I didn't see the point and told Cathy so. They'd ask me questions, I'd answer them, and then they'd print exactly what they wanted, which was nothing like what I'd actually said. She just smiled indulgently back at me and ignored my whining.

After their hair and makeup department got through with me, I almost looked presentable. Still, the photos they took to go along with the interview were definitely not my best shots. It's really hard for anyone, even an actor, to look good with red, blood-shot eyes and no sleep. Cathy was not happy with me. I then proceeded to ignore _her_ whining.

The last stop was the airport, thank God. Summit had already taken care of my ticket so I was spared from standing in _that_ line, but not even celebrity status could save me from the embarrassment and hassle of going through security. I had to stand and watch strangers paw through my personal belongings, go through metal detectors and empty my pockets for the screeners just like everyone else. And through it all, a photographer stood nearby snapping pictures of me. Why would anyone want a picture of my dead ass standing in line at the airport? They must have been desperate for something to print.

And then, the stupidest thing of all: I had to take off my shoes so they could check for bombs. _Yeah, right. Like I have enough fucking energy to blow up a plane._ All I wanted to do on that plane was sleep the sleep of the dead until someone dragged me off of it in New York, which was exactly what I did. As soon as we reached cruising altitude, I took off my seat belt, reclined my seat back, threw my hoodie over my face and crashed for the next several hours. Nobody bothered me, not even the flight attendants. I guess comatose celebrities aren't very interesting.

The next thing I knew, someone was gently shaking my shoulder, letting me know that everyone was exiting the plane. I grabbed my carry-on and hurried off. It was amazing what a few hours of sleep could do for a person; I felt like a new man. Some Summit PR guy that I didn't know ( _I hate it when Cathy's not around!_ ) whisked me out of the airport and took me to my hotel. I had a couple of hours to unwind and eat lunch before my first appearance in New York.

I was scheduled for an autograph signing at a local Hot Topic in some mall somewhere at around 4:00. I never paid much attention to the details of those things; that was what the PR guys were for. So, I just sat in the back seat taking in the sights as the company car crawled through the streets to the outskirts of the city.

I really liked New York, a hell of a lot more than I liked Los Angeles. LA was too wide-open to suit me. The closed-in feeling of this city reminded me of the streets of London. What it lacked historically, it more than made up for in pure energy and excitement. A guy could probably have a damn good time in this town.

I smiled as I thought about the possibility of sneaking out later tonight with Kristen, if she was up to it. She had left on a later flight and was due to arrive sometime this evening. We were staying in the same hotel, and Michael wasn't joining her for another couple of days. I was happy to have her all to myself for awhile. She was fun to hang out with, and she helped to make this interminable press junket a little more tolerable.

The PR guy in the car had been talking on his cell phone the entire time I had been daydreaming out the window, but a sudden change in his tone caught my attention. I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the passing scenery and began listening to the one-sided conversation. It didn't take long for me to realize something was wrong. After several minutes, the guy flipped his phone shut with a curse.

"We're canceling the appearance," he said curtly. He gave instructions to the driver to turn around as soon as possible.

"Why?" I asked curiously. I'd never had to cancel an appearance before.

"Because the security sucks at this place. More people showed up than they expected. They've had to call in the police for crowd control, and some girls have already been hurt. We're not risking taking you there."

"Girls have been hurt?" I asked, stunned. "How badly?"

"A girl had her nose broken. Evidently the crowd crushed her up against the doors as they were fighting to get in. There were some other minor injuries—nothing serious—but this just isn't a safe situation to take you into. A crowd like that can get out of control really quickly. Take my word for it, it's best if we sit this one out."

I was stunned. _This is fucking insane. I am not worth girls getting hurt over. Shit like this should not happen._ I'd tried so many times to understand this hysteria surrounding me, and each time I'd come up empty. I just didn't get it. Why would anyone put themselves in a situation where they could be injured, just to see _me?_ This was entirely my fault. If I hadn't have been appearing there in the first place, none of those girls would have even been there, and none of them would have gotten hurt.

"Can you find out the names of the girls who were injured?" I asked. "Maybe we can send them something—an autographed picture—I don't know… _something._ It's the least I can do." It was laughable that all I had to offer them was a stupid picture. There was no way that could even begin to make up for their being injured because of me.

"We'll take care of it, Rob," he said quietly, as he punched a number into his cell phone.

I sighed and leaned my head back on the seat and closed my eyes. I tuned out the conversation taking place in the front seat. I really didn't want to know any of the details. I just wanted all this madness to stop, or at least slow down a little. But deep down in the pit of my stomach, I had a terrible feeling that it was only going to get worse.

When I got back to the hotel, I changed into sweats and a t-shirt and collapsed onto the massive white sofa. I must have fallen asleep, because I was startled awake by a loud buzzing sound. It took me a minute to realize it was my phone vibrating on the coffee table. When I picked it up, I noticed two surprising things at once: It was 9:00, which meant I had slept over three hours, and, I had a text message from Kristen:

_Hey. Arrived 1 hr ago. R U decent._

Even if I wasn't decent, I didn't care. I wanted to see her tonight. I sent her a short message back:

_Room 1280. Bring beer._

I jumped up and hurried into the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash some cold water on my face. I studied myself in the mirror: _not too bad._ _She's seen me a lot worse._ I used the next twenty minutes to pick up around the room. I hadn't been there long—but it was long enough for me to turn the place into a pig sty. What could I say? Just another one of my many talents.

A quiet knock brought me hurriedly to the door, but my brain kicked in long enough for me to remember where I was. I opened it the few inches the security chain would allow, just enough to see a six-pack of Heineken staring me in the face. Then it was gone, replaced by Kristen's beautiful crooked smile. I laughed and opened the door wide. She breezed by me and sat the beer on the coffee table. By the time I'd shut and locked the door, she had made herself comfortable on the sofa and was opening one of the bottles.

"That bad of a day, huh?" I asked, smiling. She seemed just as anxious as I was to suck down a few.

She rolled her eyes. "You can't even imagine," she groaned, but then she laughed. "On second thought, you probably can."

I sat down beside her, grabbed a beer, and stretched my legs out onto the coffee table. "Want to talk about it?" I asked with concern.

"Nope," she said shortly. So, I let it go.

We sat in companionable silence while we worked on that first bottle. Kristen and I had gotten to that point in our friendship where we actually enjoyed the silence. It was never awkward for us; it just seemed natural.

"I heard you met someone," she said finally, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

I immediately bristled. "From who?"

"I talked to Cathy before I flew out this afternoon," she admitted, as she opened her second bottle and took a drink.

I made a note to myself to strangle Cathy's lovely neck when I got back to LA. "She's just a friend. It's not like that," I explained, draining the last drop out of my bottle, and reaching for another. "She's…nice, down-to-earth and a good listener. She's not part of all this craziness," I said, gesturing widely with my beer. _No, she's just a different kind of crazy._

"Who is she? Where'd you meet her?" She was practically bursting at the seams with curiosity.

"I really don't want to talk about her, Kris." My tone must have surprised her, because she stared at me in confusion for a few moments before she finally smiled, shrugged and changed the subject.

"How was _your_ day, by the way?" she asked.

"They canceled my appearance at Hot Topic because the crowd was out of control. Some girls got injured."

She looked at me with concern as she sat her bottle down on the coffee table. "You're upset," she said simply.

"Of course I'm upset," I snapped. I immediately regretted my tone. I hadn't meant for it to come out that way. It wasn't her fault. "Sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you. It's just ridiculous that people are getting hurt because of me."

She reached over and grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly. "I know you. You're blaming yourself for this, but it's not your fault. You can't be held responsible because somebody didn't do their job. It was Hot Topic's job to provide the security and make sure everyone was safe, not yours," she said quietly. "You can't take this stuff to heart, Rob, or it's going to tear you apart. You're not responsible for other people's actions, only your own."

I squeezed her hand back tightly. "This shit's going to get worse, isn't it?" I whispered, not meeting her eyes.

She sighed. "I'm afraid so. If what I'm hearing from everybody is right, our lives are never going to be the same come Monday morning."

We sat side-by-side with our legs stretched out on the coffee table, and held hands, our beers forgotten. It wasn't sexual in any way; it was just two scared people holding on to each other for dear life.

"Are you ready for it?" I asked quietly without meeting her eyes.

"Fuck no," she said simply.

"Neither am I."

We sat together for another hour or two. I didn't really know how long it was; I lost track of time after awhile. We finally finished the six-pack while we talked quietly of the inconsequential things in each other's lives. I never could get her to tell me what was bothering her when she first came in. Regardless, nothing else existed for us during those hours—no Twilight, no fans, no photographers, no Michael. It was just us in our own little world. In the end, when it came right down to it, Kristen and I had to support each other because we were the only ones who understood what we were going through.

Finally, around midnight we decided to call it a night. We had an early interview on the Today Show in the morning, and I had to admit I couldn't wait to get intimately acquainted with that king size bed in the other room. I followed her to the door, thanking her for bringing the liquid comfort. She laughed as she turned and leaned against the door.

"Glad I could help." She smiled up at me.

On some stupid spur-of-the-moment impulse, I leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. She kissed me back for a second or two, and then pulled away, her brows drawn together in confusion.

_Shit. You had to go and fuck things up, didn't you Rob? Will you ever learn?_

I playfully tousled her hair, trying to lighten the awkward moment. "For God's sake, get some sleep Kris. You look like shit." Then, I laughed. _There. That should do it. Nothing dampens an awkward romantic moment like telling a girl she looks like shit._

Her brow smoothed and she glared playfully back at me. "You're one to talk." She smiled as she reached up and tousled my hair in return. She slid quietly out the door and shut it behind her. I opened it again, stuck my head out just enough to watch her walk down the hall.

_Damn. Michael is one lucky bastard._

 

 

**I SUCK AT "ROCK BAND".  NOW GIVE ME A _REAL_ GUITAR AND I'LL KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF. **

 

**THIS IS MY PHOTO FROM THE TEEN MAGAZINE INTERVIEW (MY "RODE HARD AND PUT UP WET" LOOK). NOW YOU SEE WHY CATHY WASN'T HAPPY WITH ME.**

 

**I CAN'T OPEN MY OWN CAR DOORS ANYMORE, AND HAVE TO BE SHOWN WHERE TO WALK... _AND_ PEOPLE THINK ME GETTING OUT OF A CAR IS INTERESTING ENOUGH TO TAKE A PHOTO OF THE EVENT.  MY LIFE HAS BECOME SO ABSURD...**

 

**YOU WANT TO SEARCH ME _WHERE??_ ME AT LAX.  (LOVE THAT RATTY SHIRT!) **

 


	4. Balancing

**~ ROB ~**

  
I actually slept better than I had in a long time in that king-sized hotel bed. So when the wake-up call came at 5:00 AM, I was feeling ready for anything the day could throw at me.

I rummaged around in my clothes for something to wear for the Today Show interview. That was the hardest part of this new life of mine. I hated all this fashion shit and would be perfectly content just wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt everywhere. I just didn't see the point in all these clothes I carried around with me all the time. I sighed aloud and settled on black. That was the one fashion hint that had somehow stuck in my brain somewhere along the line: _you can never go wrong with black._ Was it Kristen who'd told me that? Or Cathy? I couldn't remember.

I studied myself in the bathroom mirror and decided it was time for a shave. That was another thing. I hated shaving. I routinely put it off as long as possible, but I didn't think my signature homeless bum look would go over very well today, so I gritted my teeth and got it done. Then the hair. I briefly considered washing it, but finally said the fuck with it and stuck some gel in it.

Kristen and I ate a quick breakfast together and laughed at ourselves. She was wearing black, too.

We headed out to NBC studios with a driver and a pseudo-bodyguard, whose name, I learned along the way, was Dean. Of course, there were tons of screaming girls lined up along the sidewalk, and photographers snapping pictures like there was no tomorrow. I was relieved to finally get inside the studio and start the interview.

It went about as well as all our interviews do. We sucked. Kristen and I always gave the worst interviews of anyone in the cast. I tended to laugh a lot and say stupid shit and basically deferred to Kristen on deep questions, and Kristen said stuff that made totally, absolutely no fucking sense. Summit's publicity department probably stayed up nights worrying about what we were going to say next, but Kristen and I just didn't care. We thought it was funny as hell. We laughed about it all the time and made fun of each other after every interview.

The really interesting part of the interview, though, was when we went outside for questions from the tons of girls lined up behind a barrier. It was embarrassing as hell to see a huge sign asking me to marry the girl holding it. I know I blushed, but I couldn't help it. What was really interesting was when this one girl told me that she LOVED Edward Cullen. The passion in her voice was so real and so amazingly intense. She really meant it! I asked her why she loved him, and I was serious. I really wanted to know, straight from a fan's mouth. I was disappointed that she couldn't give me an answer. One of these days I was going to find out the answer to that question. Then maybe I'd understand the hysteria that had taken over my life.

After the Today show interview, we walked just a short distance to our waiting car. A photographer jumped in front of us and started walking backwards and snapping pictures at the same time. I thought he'd go away after a few shots, but he didn't; he just kept on snapping away and blocking us from walking. After a few moments, it started to get a little annoying. That was when my inner asshole took over. I leaned my head in toward Kristen and murmured out of the side of my mouth, "I'm going to stick my finger up my nose and dig out a big one."

She looked up at me with the most disgusted look and laughed.

"What do you think he'd do then?" I murmured next to her ear.

She looked at me with another disgusted look, and then rolled her eyes. "He'd probably ask if he could take it home to his daughter to sigh over every night."

I busted out laughing; laughed my ass off right there in front of the photographer. It was a great comeback, but what was really funny about it was it summed up the absurdity of my life to perfection. _God, I love Kristen. That girl makes me laugh like no one else can._

We drove over to 66th Street and taped an interview for ABC studios. The interview went pretty well until the guy said I was the, and I quote, "symbol of all gorgeousness and greatness in the world." It was such an embarrassingly ridiculous statement. Things went downhill from there—for me at least. Kristen gave me that "look" a couple of times. That "look" that meant, 'what the fuck are you saying, you stupid idiot!' It ended up being fun. I'm not sure the public learned anything from it, but it sure cheered _me_ up.

When we got back in the car, the driver asked where we wanted to eat lunch. I looked at Kristen, she shrugged her shoulders, so I suggested Dolce Vita down in Little Italy. One of my friends had said it was fabulous. We both settled in for a long, slow drive through the city. We quickly got bored, so we started doing what we always did after interviews: laughing and making fun of each other.

Kristen looked at me with the most mischievous smile. "You know what would be really fun?" she asked, grinning evilly. I could hardly wait to find out. "Wouldn't it be a refreshing change to do an interview and say what we really felt, not just the standard stuff?"

That sounded fun as fuck, so I took her idea and ran with it. I sat up straight in the seat and pulled out my pretend microphone, got my serious interviewer face on and asked her THE question. It was the same question we'd both answered a million times and were sick to death of. She giggled as she realized what I was doing.

"Tell me Kristen—" I said seriously, "—did you have any idea what you were getting into when you signed on for this film?" I gazed deeply into her eyes, waiting for her profound answer.

She snickered, and then pulled herself together, cleared her throat and gave the answer she'd always wanted to give. "Fuck yeah. I mean, I'm the best actress of our generation, so…yeah, I knew it was going to be big. I mean…with ME in it, it'd have to be fucking huge!" We both cracked up at the same time.

Then she grabbed my pretend microphone and stuck it in _my_ face. "Rob—" she started, with an intent stare. "How has your life changed since you got involved with Twilight?" God, I couldn't even count how many times I'd answered that stupid question.

I pretended to think about it, to really consider it. Then I looked at her and answered slowly and thoughtfully with a straight face. "Well…before Twilight, I used to only get laid once a year. But now? I'm getting laid every night. It's so bizarre! What do these girls want from me?"

She howled, stomped her feet in the floorboard, and doubled over with laughter. Even the two guys in the front seat laughed.

"Hey, Dean, that's NOT true, okay?" I shouted to my pseudo bodyguard in the front seat. "Don't you dare repeat that or it'll end up on the Internet tomorrow."

"Don't worry, you guys." Dean chuckled. "We're paid to see nothing and hear nothing. Your secret's safe with us."

Then I shoved the pretend microphone back in her face and asked the one question I really wanted to know the answer to. "Kristen—" I said, clearing my throat and putting on my really, really serious interviewer face. "I've heard that you personally chose Robert Pattinson to play Edward," I said in a dramatic, low voice. "You've even stated you couldn't imagine anyone else playing the role. Can you tell our viewers the reason you chose him over all those other actors?"

I waited impatiently as she pretended to think about it. She rolled her eyes, tapped her chin with her finger. Her eyebrows came together in a frown. Then she smiled and leaned into my "microphone."

"He has a _really_ …big… dick," she said seductively.

I fucking lost it on that one. I collapsed back in the seat and laughed until my sides hurt. What I wouldn't give to actually hear her say that in a real interview. God, it would be priceless.

"Hey, Dean!" I yelled. "That one IS true. You can blab that to everyone you know!" We all laughed our asses off for quite awhile over that one.

She asked _me_ the next one. "Rob—" she started. "Edward and Bella obviously have an amazing onscreen chemistry." I nodded my head thoughtfully in agreement, trying to keep a straight face. "Our viewers want to know…is there anything romantic going on between you two off screen?" she asked, her eyebrows raised suggestively. Another one we'd skirted around a million times.

"Well...that's a _very_ personal question," I stated with a frown. "If you mean, are we fucking each other's brains out every night…then,… yeah. We've got something going on," I said, snickering. "We're working on a sex tape even as we speak. Watch for it on the Internet."

She roared with laughter, and then finally pulled herself together enough to ask a follow-up question. "But…doesn't Kristen have a boyfriend?" she asked me with an innocent wide-eyed smile.

"Boyfriend?" I asked, astonished. Then I hesitated. "Oh…you mean Michael? Nah. He's not her boyfriend; he's our cameraman." It was her turn to collapse back onto the seat in giggles. I wondered what our fans would think if they could hear the stuff we really talked about.

\----------------------------------------------------

We finally arrived at Dolce Vita and were hustled quickly in to a table in the far corner of the room. The waitress brought the menus to our table, took our drink orders then swiftly left without any comment whatsoever on who we were. _How refreshing._

"Rob," she said, hesitantly. "I need to ask you something." She was suddenly serious. I was suddenly nervous. "That kiss last night…"

Just then the waitress arrived to take our orders. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. I decided on the Calamari Angel Hair Pasta with a Tomato salad. Kristen ordered the Maltese Stuffed Eggplant with nothing on the side. The waitress retrieved our menus and left us staring uncomfortably at each other.

"Last night," she started again. "When you kissed me at the door? I was wondering…"

Then we were interrupted by a group of excited girls who approached our table asking for autographs and pictures. We spent the next several minutes smiling for the camera: me and Kristen, Kristen and each of the girls, me and each of the girls, a group photo of us all. Then we signed autographs for them on tote bags, books, hats and one of the girls even asked me to sign my name on her neck! What the fuck? I did it anyway, smiling all the while. As they began to murmur their apologies and leave, one of the girls slipped a piece of paper into my hand. I was too startled to do anything else but take it.

By the time they were gone, our food had arrived. The waitress brought it along with her apologies. She wanted us to know that the management respected our privacy and regretted that our meal was interrupted. She informed us that the lunch was on the house. We thanked her and concentrated the next few minutes on the amazing food.

Then I remembered the note. I picked it up and tossed it over to Kristen. "One of those little girls passed me a note. Can you believe it?"

"What'd it say?" she asked curiously, smiling.

I shrugged. She reached over and grabbed it, opened it, covered her mouth and laughed when she read it.

"What?"

"It says: 'I want to be your love slave. Fuck me Rob'," she finished, laughing in shock. "There's a phone number here, too."

"Oh my god. That girl couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. Holy shit." It was shocking some of the stuff that came from these little girls' mouths. Thankfully, Kristen tore it up into itty bitty pieces for me.

We ate for a little while longer in silence. Then Kristen brought IT up again. The stupid kiss.

"About the kiss," she said uncomfortably. "I was wondering if it had anything to do with…Portland."

 _Portland? Shit._ To most people, Portland was just a city in Oregon, but to me and Kristen, the word took on a whole different meaning. We'd been shooting in Portland one night until two or three in the morning. When we'd finally finished, everybody else had gone home to crash, everybody except me and Kristen. For some stupid fucked-up reason we'd decided to hang out together.

It was that cold night in Portland that I'd kissed her for the very first time, (and did a lot of other stuff, too). Hell, I'd kissed her plenty of times before that, but it was always as Bella and Edward, and in front of a camera with people standing around watching. No, that night in Portland, it was Robert Pattinson kissing Kristen Stewart for the very first time, and it had been the most incredible kiss ever. _So passionate, so promising…_

Things could have gotten majorly out of hand that night if I hadn't stopped it. I'd felt at the time that it would have been a distraction to get involved while we were filming. Besides, there was Michael to consider. So I'd stopped it. I'd fucking stopped it like a stupid idiot. If I hadn't, our relationship might be totally different right now.

I shrugged. "Of course not. I just did it on the spur of the moment. You know me," I said smiling mischievously with a wink.

She gave me a steady stare. I guess she was trying to figure out if I was telling her the truth. She ought to know by now that I did stupid stuff like that all the time. Hell, I had asked her to marry me a million times on the set. She had to know I wasn't serious. I did ignorant spur-of-the-moment stuff like that all the fucking time.

Like right now.

"But," I hesitated, but then looked her straight in the eye. "I just wanted to let you know that if anything like Portland ever happens again…I won't stop it this time," I said quietly.

Her eyes widened slightly, and then she gave just the tiniest of nods. _That's right. The ball's in your court now, Kris._ We both understood the implication behind what I'd just said.

The subject never came up again that day—not during the rest of the meal, not during the ride back to the hotel and not even when we said our goodbyes to each other. I was scheduled to fly back to LA this evening. She was staying in New York for the David Letterman show, then she would be flying back tomorrow. I was glad I'd be gone by the time Michael decided to grace her with his presence.

I shut the door of my room and retreated from the outside world. After spending the day talking, talking, talking, all the time, I just wanted to hibernate and be alone with myself for awhile. I hurriedly picked up stuff around the hotel room and packed. I wasn't due to leave for a couple of hours, but I wanted to get it done and out of the way and just chill until it was time to go.

When everything was packed and stacked by the door, I pulled the coffee table over to the big picture window so I could sit on it and look out over the city. New York was such a beautiful city, even in the daytime, but I especially loved it at night. There was nothing like a huge city with millions of twinkling lights sparkling in the darkness to make a person feel totally insignificant. Not for the first time, I thought about how good it was going to be to get back home to London for Christmas.

I sighed and pulled my cell out of my pocket. _Let's see…who has time in their busy schedule to talk with bored Rob?_ I scrolled down to Sam's number. Sam Bradley was one of my best friends. He probably wasn't available, but hell, I'd give it a try anyway. The phone rang twice on his end, and then his voice mail picked up. I laughed my ass off as I listened to it.

_'Hello. You've reached Death. I am not in right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll be right with you.' Beeeep._

"Hey, Sam. Love your voice mail. I guess I shouldn't leave my name, but what the fuck. No one lives forever, right? This is Rob. Call me when you get a chance." Then I disconnected as I continued to chuckle to myself.

I scrolled through the list of names some more. Most everybody was just as busy as I was. It was just pure luck that I even had these couple of hours to myself. Then I came across it. B. The letter stared back at me. B. B for Bella.

I switched over to my photos and found the picture of her: Bella, or whatever her name was. I gazed at her face smiling back at me. I'd forgotten how beautiful she was. Then I remembered how I'd felt when I was with her, how comfortable, how relaxed. I switched back over to the speed dial list and found the letter B again.

_Don't do it, Rob. It's probably a phony number anyway. Don't do it. She's fucking crazy._

I did it anyway. I was curious. Was it a real number? Would she be there waiting for the phone to ring? Would I feel that wonderful calmness when I heard her voice? Was her name really Bella? Was I just as fucking crazy as she was?

It rang once. Then again. Then I slammed the phone shut before it could ring a third time.

 _Rob, you're an idiot. You can have any girl you want._ I could probably go out on the sidewalk and recruit myself an orgy just from the girls clustered in front of my hotel. Fangirls had been haunting the entrance since the moment I'd arrived. Instead I was considering phoning this…this…teenage psychopath with the mesmerizing brown eyes.

I hit "call" again and listened as the phone rang once…twice…

On the third ring, someone picked up. "Hello?" a voice on the other end said.

Oh my god. It was her.

 

**LAUGHING MY ASS OFF AT KRISTEN'S GREAT COMEBACK IN NEW YORK!!**


	5. Connection

**\- ROB -**

 

"Bella?" I asked hesitantly, even though I already knew it was her. I'd recognized her voice immediately.

_"Robert! Oh my gosh! How are you?"_

"I'm good," I said, smiling, and I really was… _now._ It was amazing how the sound of her voice made me feel: comfortable, relaxed and at ease.

_"Where are you?"_

"I'm still in New York. Getting ready to leave this evening. How are you?"

_"Oh, same old boring stuff. I can't believe you called! I was just thinking about you."_

"Yeah?" I asked incredulously.

_"Yes! I saw your interview on The Today Show this morning. It was so funny. I've been laughing about it all day."_

"I know, it sucked," I said, laughing.

_"No, it didn't suck. I just thought it was funny when Kristen said the part had to go to you because you weren't the 'perfect guy'. I loved that look you gave her. It was so cute!"_

I chuckled as I heard the laughter in her voice. "Kristen loves saying that. She says it every chance she gets just to annoy me. What were you doing before I called?" I asked, changing the subject.

_"Just hanging out in my room, reading a magazine."_

"What's your room look like?" I felt a strange need to know everything about her and about her ordinary life.

_"It's just a room…you know…a bed…a desk…a trashcan."_

She was teasing me, but I was serious. I really wanted to know. "Describe it for me, in detail," I said quietly. She hesitated for a few moments before she spoke. When she did, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine everything she was describing to me.

_"Well, I have a huge four poster bed covered in throw pillows. There's a bookcase filled to overflowing on the same wall as my bed.—"_

Anyone with books overflowing their bookcase loved to read. I smiled as I realized we had something in common.

_"- There's a big window in the far corner of my room, with a window seat below it. Beside my window is my computer desk, stereo and CD tower.—"_

She liked music. Another thing we had in common. _Wonder what kind?_

_"- I have a couple of bean bag chairs scattered around…and there's a trash can."_

I could hear the smile in her voice as she added that last line.  "What color is it?" I asked with my eyes still closed.

_"The trashcan?"_

"No, your room!"

_"Beige and lavender. Beige walls and lavender curtains and bedspread. Tons of purple, lavender and beige pillows on the bed. And I have a big beige rug in the center of the floor…it's a hardwood floor."_

"That sounds so nice and normal," I said quietly. I used to have a life like that, an ordinary life. I used to be able to lounge around in my place and wile away the hours idly doing nothing. _Before…_

_"Ok, turnabout's fair play. Describe where you are, and I want details, too."_

"I'm in a hotel room, on the twelfth floor." I sighed. "It's just like every other hotel in the world. Maybe a little more upscale, but it's still a hotel."

_"What about the city? I've never been to a big city like New York."_

"Well, I'm not high up enough to see over the skyscrapers, but I can tell you about what I _can_ see. There's people everywhere, going who knows where, but wherever they're going, they're in a hurry. And cars. The traffic is horrible here. It takes forever to get from one side of the city to the other. Delivery trucks just stop right in the middle of the street while they deliver their stuff to businesses. We sat behind one forever today, before it finally moved. Our driver was cursing and leaning on his horn the whole time." I could hear her laughter as I continued to describe our driver's antics in gloriously profane detail.  "But it's the smells I love. Nothing smells quite like a big city."

_"It stinks?"_

"Sometimes." I chuckled. "But there's so many different people here, so many different types of restaurants and food stands all along the streets. The smells just assault you as soon as you step out of a building. I love it."

_"Did you get to see any of the sights? I've always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty."_

I could hear the longing in her voice. So ironic. She wanted to be here soaking up the sights of New York, and I wanted to be where she was, or someplace like it, just doing nothing. A simple life without all this craziness.  "No time for sightseeing, Bella. Just whatever I can see from the backseat of a car," I said. "I did see the Statue of Liberty from an airplane window."  I was sure she could hear the regret in my voice. It would be nice to do a little sightseeing, but there was never any time for it in our busy schedules of interviews and appearances. I was going to find a way to get back to New York eventually. I loved this city too much to stay away for long.

_"I wish I was there with you."_

There was nothing but silence between us as the impact of her words hit me. My body responded immediately and with full force to the longing I heard in her voice and the thought of her here beside me in this room. _What the fuck?_ It was shocking the effect she was having on me, and over a telephone, no less! It wasn't like we were having phone sex, for god's sake. We'd been talking about sightseeing, hadn't we? _Shit. I need to seriously get laid. It's been WAY too long._ Too bad there wasn't any room for that in my schedule either.

_"Robert? Are you still there?"_

I cleared my throat and got up to pace around the room. Sitting was no longer very comfortable. "Yeah, I'm here. I was just thinking about what you said. That would be…nice," I said with a small amount of hesitation. I stopped there. What else could I say? 'Oh, and by the way, just the sound of your voice gives me a raging hard on'?

_"Maybe we could get together, when you have some free time."_

Did her voice sound a little more seductive, or was I just imagining it? She was making this too easy for me. Was that all she wanted? Sex? Or was I reading more into her words than she'd really meant. Fuck. I was horrible at this girl stuff. Always had been.  "I've got a killer schedule all the way through Christmas," I said with regret. I made a mental note to go over it in detail when I got back to LA. Maybe I could squeeze in an afternoon for her. "But I'll check on it and get back to you," I said finally. _Good God, Rob. Could you have said anything more fucking stupid?_ There was nothing but silence on her end.  "I'm not brushing you off. I meant that. I _will_ check on it," I said earnestly. I really did want to see her again. I never realized how much until I heard her voice.

_"I believe you."_

And I heard absolutely no doubt or hesitation in her voice. She really did believe me. I sighed inwardly as she smoothly changed the subject.

_"I saw on the Internet where your Hot Topic appearance was cancelled. What happened?"_

"More people showed up than were expected and the crowd got out of hand. A girl was badly injured, so the PR guys cancelled," I explained. It bothered me to even talk about it again.

_"What happened to her? The internet article only said that there were injuries. They didn't give any details."_

"A girl got crushed up against a door and it broke her nose," I said quietly. There was silence on the other end for a few moments. I wondered what she was thinking.

_"You can't blame yourself, Robert. Things like that are out of your control."_

"That's exactly what Kristen said. It's just hard to wrap my head around it. I don't want people getting hurt because of me. There's something just not right about that."

_"I don't know what else to say. Just don't let it bring you down. Stuff like that doesn't happen that often."_

"I guess you didn't see the Mexico City thing then?" I asked. I'd made an appearance in Mexico City back in October and had experienced an out-of-control crowd first-hand. It had scared the fuck out of me. I never wanted to get that close to hysterical fans again.

_"No, I saw video from that on the Internet and I was so scared for you. I remembering thinking why in the world would they let those crazy fans get that close to you? It was awful to watch. I can't even imagine what it was like for you, being there right in the middle of it."_

"It was scary. I can't even begin to tell you how much. Their security was terrible. The screaming was the worst, though. I don't know why these girls scream at me." I laughed. "If they'd just talk to me I'd be able to handle it better."

_"They're stupid, that's why. I didn't scream at you."_

That was right, she hadn't. I remembered seeing her in the crowd that night of the premiere. She'd just stared back at me calmly. That was part of the reason she'd gotten my attention.  "I'm glad you didn't or I'd have never noticed you," I said, smiling. That and the fact that she looked almost identical to Kristen.

_"So, tonight's the big night. I can hardly wait until midnight! I'm so excited!"_

I was glad once again for the change of subject. "I hope you're not getting all worked up for nothing. It may end up being terrible. Nobody knows what it's going to do. We're all just holding our collective breath right now."

_"Oh, it's going to be big, Robert…huge! You just have to trust me on this. This movie is going to rule the box office this weekend. You're going to be a mega-star Monday morning."_

She sounded so certain, almost like she could see the future. "How could you possibly know that?" I asked uneasily.

_"You really don't have any idea how popular Twilight is, do you? These books have a worldwide fan base, and we've all been waiting for someone to bring Edward to life. We'd have to be dead or dying not to be in that movie theater this weekend. I'm probably going to see it three or four times myself."_

I didn't know how to respond to that. The idea of me being a mega-star was just too ridiculous to even contemplate. I was an amateur at this acting stuff. People like Johnny Depp and Jack Nicholson were mega-stars, not Robert Pattinson. She had to be mistaken.

_"Robert, in all seriousness, you need to prepare yourself for it. I'm telling you, it's going to be big. Your life's going to change. You need to be ready."_

Something about the way she said it made me believe her, and I shuddered as I realized that what I was afraid of was probably going to come true. This shit was going to get worse…

_"Robert?"_

"Yeah, I was just thinking about what you said. It's just a little surreal to me, that's all. You'll have to let me know if it's any good."

_"You mean you haven't seen it?"_

"No, I don't watch my movies unless I'm forced to." I was sure I'd have to sit through it eventually, but I wasn't going to until I had to.  "So you can be my own personal movie critic."

_"Okay then. I'll be sure to give you a detailed review the next time we talk."_

The next time we talk. Yes, there was definitely going to be a next time. And a next time. And a next time. This was bizarre. I couldn't explain it, but I had a deep conviction that this girl was going to become a big part of my life. I had no idea how I knew, I just did. I felt it, a connection.

_"So when are you going to be back in LA?"_

"I'm flying out this evening so it'll be after one or two o'clock in the morning before I get back," I answered. I suddenly realized I'd only have a few hours to spare in LA before I had to go back to work. _Better sleep on the plane._ "I have to do The Ellen Degeneres Show in the morning and then spend some time with my parents before they fly back to England, and I'm sure there's something else I have to do, but I can't remember right now."

_"When will you be back at your apartment?"_

"I probably won't have any free time until Saturday. I'm going to be lucky if I have enough time to grab a couple hours of sleep here and there," I said. "Why?"

_"I want to give you a present in advance, to celebrate your amazingly successful opening weekend."_

"Bella, that's not necessary… _really_." I was touched by the sentiment, but I really didn't want her to spend any money on me.

_"It's nothing expensive, believe me. Just something I wanted to give you. Can I have your address?"_

I hesitated before answering, perhaps a bit too long. She wanted my address. My apartment was the only place I had any privacy. I was very particular about who I gave the location out to. The last thing I wanted was paparazzi hanging out at my front door. So, it came down to this. Did I trust her?  "I need your word that you won't tell anyone. I don't give out my address to people, as a rule."

_"You can trust me. I haven't told anyone about that night at the bar. No one. I promise you, I won't tell anyone your address."_

For some reason, I believed her. I gave her my address slowly as she wrote it down on a piece of paper.

_"I promise, I'm going to memorize it and then eat the paper. No one will find it out from me."_

"That's a little extreme," I said, chuckling. "I trust you." There. I'd said it…out loud.

_"Thank you, and you'll get your gift by Saturday. I promise."_

"I'll be watching for it," I said, smiling. I had to admit I was looking forward to getting it. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be.  It was then that our conversation was interrupted by an insistent knocking at my hotel door. Shit. It was time to go.  "Bella, I've got to get to the airport. They're practically beating my door down."

"Just a minute!" I yelled over my shoulder.

_"Don't let me keep you. We'll talk again soon."_

I didn't want to hang up. I wanted to spend the rest of the night talking to her and getting to know everything about her. If it was possible to have cell service on the plane, I would have gladly spent the entire flight on the phone with her. One last thing though. "Bella…" I hesitated.

_"Hmm?"_

"What's your real name?" I asked. I knew it wasn't 'Bella' and I was determined to find it out, sooner or later.  But all I heard was her laughter as she hung up.

  
  



	6. Surprises

**~ ROB ~**

Things at JFK went about the same as they did at every airport: screaming girls (How the hell did they find out I was going to be here?) and photographers (Don't the fuckers ever sleep?). Airport security had to escort me through the lines and onto the plane.

I was relieved to finally get into my seat. I was looking forward to another few hours of sleep; I couldn't seem to ever get enough. I tossed my carry-on bag into the empty seat beside me. No one would be sitting there. I tried to make sure of that on every flight I took. This was my sleeping time, and I didn't want it interrupted by small talk with a total stranger.

Well, the airlines screwed up. I was stuck with a thirty-something businesswoman all the way to LA who sold drugs for some unheard of pharmaceutical company. Our onboard acquaintance didn't start off well. I was aggravated, so I let my inner asshole take over and do all the talking, and sometimes he doesn't say the smartest things.

For about an hour, I had her convinced that I was Trevor, a British professional soccer player on my way to Los Angeles to sign a major contract with another team. I knew absolutely nothing about soccer. I couldn't kick a soccer ball into the ocean if I was standing on the beach. I hated sports, all of them. I would have rather spent an evening writing a song or playing music, than to be forced to watch a ball game. But she had no clue who I was, so it was really easy to lead her on. I had to admit, I was having too much fun.

It was bound to blow up in my face sooner or later. I messed up when I told her my position. Since I didn't know shit about soccer, I plucked a phrase from my head that I'd heard from somewhere, I couldn't even remember where: wide receiver. She laughed her ass off then and made me tell her who I _really_ was. She also told me I didn't know shit about soccer. I could have told her that.  She'd never heard of Robert Pattinson or Twilight, which had been fucking refreshing. I actually enjoyed talking with her for another hour until she informed me that I looked like I needed some sleep. _What a wonderful woman!_ I put my iPod on and slept the rest of the way. She never once bothered me.

I arrived at LAX tired, but glad to be back in familiar territory. There were absolutely NO photographers waiting for me in the terminal. Evidently the fuckers _did_ sleep. A Summit car was waiting for me out front. I didn't know the driver or the PR underling who'd gotten roped into driving out to get me at midnight. I was sure Cathy was tucked away under her designer sheets with cucumbers on her eyes, while I was dragging my tired ass all over the country. Damn, but I needed a day off. I made a mental note to ask her about my schedule tomorrow. For Bella….

I arrived back at my apartment ready to collapse in my bed, but the message light was blinking on my machine. It was Cathy, reminding me of my wake-up call in the morning and even suggesting what I should wear for Ellen's show. I thought I already had a mother.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.

\--------------------------------------------------

**-(Friday, November 21, 2008)-**

I didn't know how long the alarm had been ringing before I finally knocked it off the nightstand and onto the floor. I managed to drag myself out of bed, shower, and put on some presentable clothes…and shave. But the hair. _Ugh_. I just let it air dry then added some gel again.

Little did I know that the coming days were going to bring several surprises my way. The first was at the Ellen Degeneres studio. I knew my Mum and Dad were in town doing the tourist thing until I got back from New York, but what I hadn't known was that Cathy had arranged for them to be in the audience. They were waiting for me backstage before the show. My mum hugged me then proceeded to fuss over me, telling me I looked tired and needed more sleep. She said that all the time, and it was true every single time. Dad just slapped me on the back like always and told me I was looking good.

I watched them both on the backstage monitors during the warm up portion of the show. They were dancing and having a great time. I'd never seen my dad dance before. I liked seeing my parents enjoying themselves. That was one good thing about all this Twilight stuff. It gave me the means to help my family, financially, and also just to have some fun once in a while.

Ellen's show went really well. She was an easy person to talk to, and she put me at ease immediately. I was a lot more comfortable with her than I was on the Tyra Banks Show. I had been a nervous wreck for _that_ one. When Tyra had asked me to bite her on the neck, I'd about shit my pants! That woman was so fucking hot and I couldn't believe I was going to get to actually touch her body. I'd taken complete advantage of the situation, too. The audience saw me "pretend bite" her neck, which I did. What the audience did _not_ see was the quick kiss I gave her neck after the pretend bite. I was still waiting for her phone call….

Ellen did shock me though. At the end of the interview, while the audience was applauding, she leaned in and whispered in my ear, "You almost make me wish I wasn't gay."  I laughed my ass off, that is, after I got over the shock.

Cathy had also arranged for a private dining room at The Palm downtown so that I could have a quiet lunch with my parents without all the hoopla that usually followed me around. We took a very long lunch, eating and catching up with all the news from home. I got all the latest gossip on my two sisters and all of my friends back in London. They gushed over all the sights they had seen in Hollywood. Mum even said she hoped to see my star on that sidewalk someday. That was so ridiculous I didn't even comment. Then my cell phone went off, luckily after we'd already finished eating. It was Cathy.

_"Hey, Rob! Enjoying your lunch?"_

"Yeah, thanks Cathy. I take back all those names I called you."

_"Funny. Just wanted to let you know the good news. Twilight took in $7 million last night at the midnight showings. We beat out Sex and the City's midnight take."_

Second surprise. I couldn't believe it. "We beat Sex and the City? That's incredible.! Why?" I asked in surprise. "Twilight can't be more popular than sex."

_"Rob, Edward Cullen **is** sex, hot vampire sex, honey. The women love that stuff. We found out from Fandango that five tickets were being sold for the midnight show every second." _

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe the film was doing this well. None of us had expected this when we'd signed on.

 _"We'll probably know by tomorrow morning whether they're going ahead with the sequel. Better get with your agent."_  
  
"I'll do that this weekend. By the way, I wanted to check my schedule and see if there's any time in the next few days that I can take off," I said hesitantly. If the movie did better than expected, I would probably be slammed until Christmas, but it didn't hurt to ask.

_"I'll check on that and get back to you this afternoon. Why do you need time off, if you don't mind my asking?"_

"It's personal," I answered, and that was all I was going to say.

_"I'll let you know. By the way, your schedule's clear for the day and the rest of the weekend, actually. No…wait a minute. If they announce a sequel, you may have to go over to Summit for some PR stuff Saturday or Sunday."_

"When's Kristen due in?" I asked curiously.

_"She should already be here. Flew in this morning."_

That was good to know. I liked to keep tabs on her, just to make sure she was all right, and nearby.  "Is that all? My parents are getting glassy-eyed."

_"That's it. Have a great afternoon. Talk to you later."_

My parents left in a cab to go back to their hotel to pack. It was a short visit, but I'd be back home for a longer one at Christmas. I couldn't wait.

I was ready to go back to my apartment and crash when I got a call from Tom, one of my friends from London. He was in LA now, his acting career finally taking off. He was having a house party this evening and I was invited. He didn't have to ask me twice. I caught a cab home, changed clothes and then chilled for awhile before it was time to go to Tom's.

After dark, I drove over to his apartment with my guitar stashed in the back seat. Tom and I loved getting drunk and jamming. We used to do it all the time back in London when we were just a bunch of nobodies trying to get our start. We'd had this cool little flat in downtown. I always told everybody it used to be a crack den. Probably wasn't, but just the idea had been funny as hell.

That was what we did for the rest of the night. I think we totally emptied the beer shelf at the local convenience store where we went to stock up on munchies. All in all, it was a great night. There's nothing like hanging out with friends, drinking and singing the night away. I didn't get totally wasted, but I didn't feel safe enough to drive either. I ended up sprawled on his couch for the night.

\---------------------------------------------

**-(Saturday, November 22, 2008)-**

About mid-morning, I finally dragged myself off of Tom's couch and made my way home. The couple hours of sleep I'd grabbed weren't nearly enough. I was looking forward to turning off my phone and crawling into my own bed.  When I went to unlock my apartment, it was already unlocked. _What the hell?_   Could I have left last night without locking up? It seemed unlikely, but totally possible. Sleep deprivation made me do crazy things sometimes.

I slowly eased the door open. A small part of my brain was screaming in alarm. I was a paranoid person to begin with, and my imagination only made things worse. But another part of my brain was laughing its ass off. I was being ridiculous and melodramatic. I'd just forgotten to lock the fucking door, that was all.  I made my way cautiously into the living room and shut the door quietly behind me, my eyes searching the darkened room for whatever awaited me. That was when I saw her.  Surprise number three.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in astonishment.

She didn't answer. She just smiled as she slowly walked over to me. Before I knew what was happening, her mouth was on mine, warm and so damned soft. I sighed and dropped my keys aimlessly to the floor. I kissed her back, not caring what reason had brought her here, today, and into my arms. I slowly explored the curves of her body and went from zero to hard in a matter of seconds when her tongue slid into my mouth. It had been so long since I'd had time for this, and I wanted it,  _needed_ it.

"Do you have some time?" she whispered, as her lips nibbled at my ear.

"For you, I'll _make_ time," I said softly.

I buried my hands in the mass of brown hair and explored her mouth hungrily with my tongue, as her own hands moved urgently over my body.

"Are you sure?" I whispered hoarsely. My sanity was hanging by a thread, my body tense with need.

She nodded. I smiled back at her, relaxed, and then let the lust consume me.

 

**ME AT JFK WITH MY RENT-A-COP IN TOW.**

 

**ME & TOM HITTING THE CONVENIENCE STORE FOR BEER AND MUNCHIES (DAMNED PHOTOGRAPHERS ARE EVERYWHERE!)**

 

 


	7. Sex and a Surprise

**~ ROB ~**

I pulled her slowly backward with me toward the hallway, kissing her the whole time. We stumbled against the wall near the entrance to the hall. I tugged frantically at her tucked-in sweater until it pulled free of her jeans. Both of my hands snaked underneath, searching for her breasts.

She moaned and then reached down and ripped her sweater over her head in a rush of static and tangled hair. It fell to the floor aimlessly as her mouth found its way back to mine. My hands fumbled with her lacy bra; I couldn't get the damned hooks undone! I growled in frustration, and then satisfied myself with just pushing my fingers underneath the front of it. She laughed at my clumsiness and reached around behind her back. In an instant, the bra was on the floor. _How the fuck do girls do that?_ Then I pushed her up against the opposite wall and ground my hips into hers hard, as my hands kneaded her soft mounds. Her fingers were raking through my hair and her tongue was in my mouth.

"Take your jeans off," I gasped in between kisses.  I stepped back and watched as she slowly unhooked her belt, pulled it through the loops and then dropped it on the floor. She smiled wickedly at me as she pulled the snap loose on her jeans and then unzipped them, ever so slowly. This was taking entirely too damned long.

I pushed her hands away and quickly peeled the jeans off of her. When I reached her ankles, she stepped out of them and kicked them away. I ran my hands up the sides of her smooth legs, kissing and licking her thighs, then her stomach, then her breasts. She tugged on her panties and they dribbled to the floor.

"You have on way too many clothes," she said breathlessly.

I yanked off my outer shirt and dropped it on the floor, and then she pulled the t-shirt over my head. We kissed as we backed slowly down the hallway, closer and closer to my bedroom.  We stopped when my back came up against the doorjamb. She looked up at me and smiled as she slowly ran her fingers down my chest to the top of my jeans.

"Take off _yours_ ," she whispered huskily.

She didn't have to ask me twice. I braced myself against the doorframe and pried off my Nikes. Then I hurriedly stripped off my pants and kicked them over into the corner. 

"No underwear?" she asked with a surprised grin.

I smirked. "Commando."

 _There's too much talking going on here._ I pulled her into the bedroom and onto the bed. Our mouths and hands were all over each other; I couldn't wait any longer. The foreplay was over, as far as I was concerned. I rolled her over onto her back and she pulled me on top of her, begging me to hurry.

I plunged into her hard and deep. We both groaned loudly at just how fucking good it felt. She moaned what she wanted into my ear, and I gave it to her, hard and fast, just like she liked it.  It didn't take long for either of us. I knew when she knotted her fingers in my hair and pulled that she was close. We'd done this too many times before. We knew each other's moves exactly. She knew I liked the hair pulling and I knew it was her signal to go for it. And I did. Hard.

The orgasms hit us both at the same time. We cried out each other's names in breathless gasps. When it was over, I relaxed on top of her and lightly kissed her lips.

"God, Nikki. You don't know how much I needed that," I said as my breathing started to slow.

"Oh yes I do, babe." She laughed seductively as she aimlessly ran her fingers through my hair.

I rolled off of her and collapsed onto my side of the bed. She followed me and lay partially on my chest with her legs entwined with mine.

"Ooh…I missed you sooo much," she said as she kissed me.

"I thought you were with some actor guy now. That's why I asked you if you were sure." 

"Eh." She waved her hand in dismissal. "He was a bore. Nobody does me as good as you do," she said with a suggestive grin.

I didn't know quite what to say to that, so I ignored it and reached over and pulled out the drawer of the nightstand to look for some cigarettes. Cigarettes and sex. Better than peanut butter and jelly. I felt around inside the drawer and came up empty.

"You have any cigarettes?" I asked.

"Sure. In my purse. I'll go get us one," she answered. "Don't you go anywhere while I'm gone." 

I laughed and raised my head to watch her walk out of the bedroom and down the hallway.   _Damn, that girl has a beautiful ass._ In fact, that was what had attracted me to her in the first place. The first time I'd seen her on the set, I'd known I had to have her. Well, I take that back. My _dick_ saw her first, but it didn't take long for the rest of me to catch up.

She'd evidently felt the same way about me, because before we knew what was happening we were hooking up. Over time, we'd developed a mutually satisfying relationship based on love: I loved her ass, and she loved my dick. And when the two got together, it was a match made in heaven.

We both accepted our relationship for what it was: two people who just happened to be friends and who were physically attracted to one another, without the possibility of anything more serious happening. Besides, with the crazy lives we were leading, sometimes we just needed the hell out of each other.

I lay my head back down on the bed and waited. I knew it was coming. It always did. That empty feeling. That huge fucking hole in my life. Nikki would never be able to fill it. She was a trusted and close friend, but that was all. None of the girls I had been involved with had been able to fill it. Not even close.

I put on a smile as she returned to my arms with a lighter and a cigarette. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't the one. She didn't deserve to be brushed off. So I cuddled her as we talked quietly about the things going on in each other's lives. And, as was our routine, we shared the one cigarette between us.

It was bound to happen eventually. I'd lost too much sleep in the last few days. I drifted off to the sound of her voice murmuring softly in the darkened room.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

_**-(Saturday afternoon, November 22, 2008)-** _

 

"Rob." A voice was softly calling my name. I didn't want to wake up. I was feeling too damned good where I was.  "Rob," the voice said. "Babe, wake up."

I opened my eyes and blinked sleepily. Nikki's face was just a few inches from mine.

"You _need_ to wake up," she purred as she kissed me, lightly at first, but then deeper. "Because Mamma missed her Daddy." She growled suggestively as her hips moved over mine.

No damn wonder I'd felt so good before I'd woken up. She was straddling my hips and I was already inside her, ready to go.

"Nikki, you are such a slut." I chuckled as her lips moved along my jaw and down my neck.

"You know you love it, babe," she whispered in my ear.

"Damned right I do."

I closed my eyes and relaxed, and waited for those beautiful hips to take me into oblivion.

\------------------------------------------

_**-(Saturday evening, November 22, 2008)-** _

 

We finally emerged from the bedroom as the sun was setting outside. We laughed at our mess as we gathered up our clothes that were strewn all down the hallway. She got dressed as I pulled on my jeans that were lying in the corner.

"I really have to go," she said as she gathered up her purse and keys. "You know I'd love to stay the night, but I have some stuff to do."

"I understand. Believe me," I said. "I have some stuff of my own to do." I planned on hitting the bed in earnest as soon as humanly possible.

"Your light's blinking on your machine," she said.

"I'll check it later." I pulled her into my arms and gave her a goodbye hug and kiss.

As she was heading out the door, she stopped and turned. "Oh, by the way, Peter and Jennie are having a get-together tomorrow afternoon. Everybody's going to be there. You should come, and bring your guitar." 

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"Oh, and one more thing. When I came in this morning, there was a package leaned up against your door. I put it on the kitchen counter. See you tomorrow!" She smiled as she left and shut the door.

A package? I wasn't expecting a package. Then I remembered…..

Bella's surprise.

 

**INTERESTING QUOTE:**

**When asked about on-set hookups, [Nikki] Reed told Us, “I’m not going there!”**  
**\---Us Weekly (The Sexy Stars of Twilight) 2009.**

 


	8. Celebration and Conversation

**~ ROB ~**

I rushed into the kitchen to see a small brown box lying on the counter. Bella's gift. I was dying to rip into it that very minute, but sighed when I realized that my curiosity was going to have to wait. The light on my machine was blinking ominously. I knew I was going to pay for turning off my cell and ignoring the outside world for a few hours. There was no avoiding it. Business first, then Bella.

I sat down by my machine and proceeded to listen to my messages. The first was from a screaming Cathy, ranting about me not answering my calls on the most important weekend of my life. Evidently the sequel was a go and had been announced while Nikki and I were pleasantly banging each other all afternoon. She ended the message with an abrupt order: 'Robert, call me the instant you get this message!' She never called me Robert unless I was in deep shit.  I ignored her and proceeded to the next message. It was my agent letting me know the time and location of our meeting Monday with Summit. Contract negotiations, ugh.

There were several messages from assorted friends and family congratulating me on the success of the film and the announcement of the sequel. The last message was from Peter, inviting me to his house Sunday afternoon for a celebration get-together. He ended his message with: 'Bring your guitar and plenty of money!' 

I gritted my teeth and dug my cell out of my jeans. I ignored the explosion of messages when I turned it on, and called Cathy. I listened helplessly while she took her frustrations out on me. 'Why didn't I answer my phone? What in the hell was I thinking? What the fuck was I doing all day!' She almost answered her own question with that one. 'What could possibly be more important than Twilight this weekend?' In between the various rants, I managed to gather some useful information. Twilight took in almost $36 million Friday night and was expected to take in that much and maybe more tonight.

I knew that they were probably holding their collective breath over at Summit. It had already surpassed everyone's expectations by breaking even. So now, anything else was pure in-the-pocket profit. And as everyone in this industry knew, it was all about money. _Maybe for them, but not for me._

I finally managed to get in a few words with Cathy. I tried explaining the whole 'having a life' thing to her, but I didn't think it sunk in. When I asked her about time off next week, she informed me sarcastically that she'd been a little busy. As we said our goodbyes, she promised to check on it and let me know Monday.

With all the unpleasantness out of the way, I was finally able to turn my attention to the brown box on the counter. I shook it, just out of curiosity, and heard something moving around inside. Like a kid at Christmas, I tore into the paper and ripped open the package. Inside was a long, thin black box. A box like that could only mean one thing: jewelry. 

I opened it to find a necklace lying on a bed of white cotton. The design looked familiar somehow, but I couldn't place it. It was made out of a lightweight, dark metal. There was an outer circular ring with three prongs placed around it. Inside and attached to the circle was what looked like a knotted maze. I tried to follow it with my eyes, but the end eluded me. The pendant was attached to a simple black nylon cord. She'd been telling the truth. It was obviously inexpensive, but I loved it. Inside the box was a small square of yellow note paper. I opened it, expecting some sort of message, but all it said was 'Call me'.

Without hesitation, I hit her number in my speed dial. She answered after the second ring.

_"Robert!"_

"Hey, Bella. I got your gift. I'm looking at it right now. It's amazing!" I marveled.

_"You like it?"_

"Yes, I do. I really mean that. It's beautiful. What is it exactly? I probably should know, but I can't remember where I've seen that design."

_"It's a Celtic Knot. Do you see those three prongs on the outside ring? Those represent your heart, your mind, and your soul. And the knot inside represents the unending nature of life and love."_

I was stunned into silence. No one had ever given me such a thoughtful gift before.

_"Robert?"_

"I'm here. I was just thinking about what you said. It's really a special gift. Thank you," I said quietly.

_"I told you, it's not much, but it's the meaning behind it that counts. Congratulations by the way. I heard about the sequel. Saw the announcement on the Internet."_

"Thanks! I just found out about it myself, actually."

_"So, what have you been up to all day?"_

"Um, just hanging out around my apartment." Shit. I hated lying, but technically that was what I had been doing. Sort of.

_"Have you found a day you can come up to see me?"_

"I'm working on it. Cathy is a little stressed right now, but she promised to check on it for me."

_"Well, any afternoon works. I'm home-schooled in the mornings and then have the afternoon and evenings free for other stuff."_

"I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything," I promised.

_"You'll need directions."_

"Yeah, you'd think I'd know the way to Forks by now, but I wasn't paying much attention to the details at the time," I said, laughing.

_"Forks? I don't live in Forks. Whatever gave you that idea?"_

"You don't?" What the hell? I could have sworn that was what she'd told me that night in the bar. Or did I just assume? I tried to think back on that conversation, but parts of it were a bit fuzzy, probably the parts that involved the beer.

_"No, I live in Vancouver."_

"Vancouver? Canada?" I asked in shock. I heard the laughter in her voice.

_"Robert! Vancouver, Washington."_

"Bella, Vancouver is not a 'little town in Washington'."  I remembered now.  That was what she had told me that night in the bar.

_"Compared to LA, it is."_

So, maybe she wasn't as crazy as I had first thought. Bella living in Forks would be very seriously fucked up, but Bella living in Vancouver…well….that sounded almost normal. _That_ I could handle.

We spent a long time just talking together. I ignored every single beep I got and concentrated just on her. _To hell with business and everything else._  I was trying to have a life, and no one was going to interrupt me tonight.

I managed to find out some interesting facts about her after some pushing and prodding. She tended to want to only talk about me, but I did find out that her father is a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company and her mother is in marketing. They were often out of town and left Bella in charge of the house. She told me again that she was home-schooled, and spent every morning on her lessons, and the afternoon was her time for chores and personal stuff. She was also house-sitting for an elderly couple who wintered in Phoenix. She spent the night at their home at least once a week to clean and make sure everything was all right. I was impressed with her maturity and sense of responsibility.

"So, how did you like the movie?" I asked finally.

_"It was awesome! I went to the midnight show, and then I went again last night. I'll probably go again tomorrow."_

"God, Bella, aren't you getting a little carried away?" I asked with a laugh of disbelief.

_"Everybody I know is going at least four times. We really want them to make a sequel so we're slamming the theaters."_

"I think you've convinced them," I said, laughing. Why would anyone go see a movie four times in one weekend? Surely it wasn't  _that_ good. We'd tried to make the best film possible with the limited budget we'd had, but still…

_"When I see you, I'll give you my in-depth review. And Robert, wear my necklace when you come up."_

"I will." I suddenly couldn't wait to see her. I hoped Cathy could work something out soon. I hated this long distance talking. I couldn't explain this connection I had with her, but I felt it, even across the miles. I wanted to see her again, in person, to see if what I'd felt that night in the bar was still there, to see if she felt the same way. And to just talk to a normal person who wasn't involved with all this Hollywood shit.

"Bella…"

_"Hmmm?"_

I knew she couldn't see it but I smiled to myself as I asked her the question.  "What's your real name?"

_"Robert! Stop!"_

I wasn't surprised to hear her laughter once again as she said her goodbyes.

I chuckled to myself. I wasn't going to give up. I was going to get it out of her eventually.

\-------------------------------------------

_**-(Sunday, November 23, 2008)-** _

I must have slept like the dead because I didn't remember a thing after I hung up with Bella until I woke up Sunday morning. That bed felt so damned good. I dozed off and on all morning until I finally dragged myself out around noon.  I rummaged around in the kitchen for something decent to eat. I didn't know why I even bothered; I ended up eating junk for lunch. I would have loved to dash down the street to the bagel shop, but it wasn't worth the hassle of dodging a photographer or dealing with fangirls.

Nikki texted me and offered to give me a ride to Peter's house. Everyone made fun of my car and swore it was possessed, so I accepted her offer. Then I spent an hour on the phone with my agent talking sequel details and discussing the fate of another project I was involved in, until it was time to leave.

Nikki and I arrived at Peter and Jennie's house around three in the afternoon. They had a beautiful and spacious home nestled in the mountains about ten minutes south of Beverly Hills. Peter was an amazing cook so I was looking forward to the food. I never passed up free food, even if I had to lose my ass in poker to get it.

Nikki wasn't kidding about everyone being there. When we walked into the Great Room, which intersected the kitchen, I saw the whole crew. Cam, Kellan, Jackson and Taylor were already fighting for position at the counters where the food was sitting out. Ashley, AnnaLynne, and Dominique were huddled in a group talking. Jennie and Peter were fussing over everything like the perfect host and hostess. And then there was Kristen and Michael, off in a corner by themselves. They were kissing, for God's sake. His hands were all over her, in places where _my_ hands had been.

We all ate and chatted at the gigantic table in the dining room. Of course, Twilight came up. Everyone was digesting the news about the box office take and wondering how this was going to affect our lives. It had taken in another $21 million last night. We all shared a collective groan at the day of meetings facing us Monday, but underneath all the complaining there was an undercurrent of excitement. Things were definitely going to change for us.

After we'd all gorged ourselves and cleared away the food, the beer and cards came out. This was a sort of ritual with us. Sometimes, on the set, we'd played poker well into the night when we should have been sleeping. About one thing I was absolutely certain: I was going to lose my ass. I always did. Peter, Kellan and Ashley were just too good. No matter how hard I tried, they always ended up with my money.  After I was down a hundred dollars, I folded and bowed out with a defeated smile, and left the room with their laughter and jeers following me. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge, picked up my guitar and headed through the house to the deck.

There was no better view of Los Angeles than the one from Peter's back deck. Perched up on the side of a mountain, you could see the city spread out below, and in a little while, the night would bring the twinkling lights of millions of homes and businesses. I sat on top of the patio table, drank my beer and played around on the guitar until I was joined, unexpectedly, by Kristen.  Saying nothing, she climbed up on the table and sat beside me and just looked out over the view. I was surprised that Michael let her out of his sight. He rarely did when they were together.

Finally, after a long silence of staring off into the distance, she spoke. "I've got an audition this week."

"For what?" I asked curiously.

"To play Joan Jett in a film called The Runaways. I'm a little nervous. I really want that part," she said. It was unusual to hear uncertainty in her voice. She was always so confident when it came to work.

"You'll get it. No problem. You're the best actress of our generation," I said with a smile and a wink. "They'd be fools if they didn't cast you."

She smiled at my compliment, then sighed and fell silent. Something was up. I knew her too well. Whatever it was, she was stalling bringing it up. I waited patiently and continued softly playing a song on my guitar.

"I heard something very upsetting today," she said finally. _Here it comes…_

"Oh?"

"You're sleeping with my best friend," she stated flatly.

Oh fuck. I couldn't believe Nikki had told her. What in the hell had she been thinking?  "Who told you that?" I asked cautiously.

"Nikki, who else?" she answered sarcastically. "Is it true?"

I just nodded and kept on playing.

"My God! How long has this been going on right under my nose?" she asked angrily.

"Pretty much since Day One. On and off," I answered, shrugging. I hoped that she would drop it there, but no such luck.

Her leg that was crossed over her knee began to bounce. I knew that bounce. She was either incredibly nervous, or incredibly angry. I thought I knew which one.

"She doesn't love you, Rob," she said quietly.

I barked a short laugh. "There's a newsflash. I don't love her either. We're just friends."

"Friends? With benefits, you mean," she huffed. "You're just fuck buddies, is that it?"

Jeez. I did not want to have this conversation with her. "That pretty much sums it up. And the number one rule for fuck buddies is that you don't fall in love," I stated with surety. Now maybe she'd drop it, but her leg was still bouncing. She was mad as hell. I could feel the tension in her body even though we weren't touching.

"God, Kris, what do you expect me to do? Look at everybody back there in the house. They all have someone to lean on, everyone but me and Nikki. Are we the only ones who don't get to have someone, just because it doesn't fit your idea of what should happen?" I said, my voice unexpectedly rising. I didn't recognize this anger that was building inside of me. Where was it coming from? I brought my voice down to a normal level before I continued.  "You know her. You know how fun she is to be with. She's like that with me, too. And you know I can't have a normal relationship with anyone right now. She's there for me, and I can trust her to be discreet."

She leaned her head against her palm, her leg still bouncing. "It's awkward, that's all."

"Awkward? How is it awkward? Tell me," I prompted her quietly, laying my guitar down behind me. I knew exactly why it was awkward and why I'd tried to keep it from her. I just needed to hear her say it: 'I want you, Rob. _I_ want to be with you, instead of _her_.'

"I'm afraid of you," she whispered. "I'm afraid of whatever this is between us. I don't know if it's anything that will stick. Michael sticks. He's been with me for three years. He's always been there when I needed him. I don't know that about you, Rob. I don't know if you'll be there. I don't know if it's just sex or if there's something more."

"You know what we need to do?" I didn't wait for an answer, but plowed on. It had to be said-flat out, just laid on the table. "You need to come over to my place one night and let's just have sex. Just start where we left off in Portland, and fuck the hell out of each other one good time. Then maybe this awkwardness will go away. Then we could find out if there's anything there. And if it's just sex, well then, we can say we had ourselves a damn good time and we can move on. But, if there's more?" I stopped, letting the rest of the sentence dangle in the air between us.

"I won't cheat on Michael," she stated flatly. "Not with you, not with anybody."

"Of course you won't," I said, chuckling bitterly, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. What in the hell had I been thinking? I was fucking done with this conversation.  I grabbed my guitar and beer and walked back into the house searching for Nikki. I found her still at the poker table, her stash greatly depleted. I bent over her shoulder to look at her cards. She didn't have shit. I put my lips against her ear.

"You have a terrible hand. Fold them and let's go find a dark corner," I whispered.

She laughed quietly, threw her cards down and stuck her remaining money down into her pocket. Nikki and I left the dining room hand-in-hand. I was sure some at the table were surprised, but some weren't. The good thing was I could trust every single one of them to keep it quiet.  We found a dark room that looked like a game room. I wasn't paying that much attention to the decor as I was too busy pushing Nikki against the wall and feeling her up. We kissed hungrily for quite a while, our hands searching for warm places to touch.

"Rob," she moaned. Then she growled suggestively into my ear. "I want to fuck you."

I laughed as she dragged her mouth lazily over mine. "That what's I love about you, Nikki. You're so shy."

"Let's go back to your place," she suggested. "Unless you want to use one of Peter's bedrooms?"

"That wouldn't be very polite." I laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the house with me. We said our hurried goodbyes. Everyone chuckled or snickered knowingly as we prepared to leave—everyone except for Kristen. She was seriously pissed, but I didn't seriously care. She was with Michael. Period. End of sentence.

We kept the sexual tension going in the car with our hands. Nikki was one hell of a driver even with hands up her shirt and down her jeans. We were damned lucky we made it to my place in one piece. We had to fight to keep our hands off of each other on the street, because you never knew when a damned photographer was going to jump out of the shrubbery.  But as soon as my front door was shut and locked behind us, we fell on each other: tongues, mouths, and hands everywhere; clothes falling to the floor in haphazard piles. We never made it to the bedroom. Instead we settled for the living room sofa. She lowered her hips down onto my lap and pushed me inside of her. Our moans filled the quiet room as our bodies made that initial contact. I dug my fingers into that beautiful ass as she rode me hard and deep. I buried my face in her hair and groaned loudly as the pressure started to build. I thrust my hips up hard against hers at each stroke until we were clawing at each other, moaning between gritted teeth and hanging on the edge. For one brief, but crystal clear moment, I wondered what it would be like with Kris, but then the thought disappeared, ripped away by Nikki's hoarse screams in my ear and the powerful orgasm that was suddenly shuddering through my body.

We held each other quietly, our chests heaving together in exertion, our breaths coming in short gasps, sweat coating our bodies in a thin sheen. She was still straddling my lap as she softly stroked my hair and played her fingers along my neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of her, the smell of her, and her touch against my skin.  No matter what Kristen thought, no matter what anybody thought, Nikki was a part of my life. She was a trusted friend and, at times, a much-needed lover. That was just the way things were.

Kris was with Michael, and I was with Nikki. For now….

 

**BELLA's GIFT**

 

 

 

**PETER FACINELLI's HOUSE**

 

 


	9. Bella (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time that Rob spends with Bella is so detailed and long that it has to be divided into three parts. Sorry for that. Anyway, the Twilight movie review that Bella talks about is actually MY experience at the midnight show. Her opinions about the drawbacks of the movie are also mine. The whole conversation about Edward Cullen came from my readers. I asked them why they loved Edward Cullen and I was overwhelmed with responses!

**~ ROB ~**

_**(-Monday, November 24, 2008-)** _

Monday was the worst day to have meetings, because meetings, by their very nature, were hugely boring, and also because it was fucking Monday. But there was nothing to be done about it. My morning was filled with the drone of lawyers, agents, executives and lots of monotonous details that I had to fight to pay attention to. By lunchtime, a dull throb was pulsing at my temples.

When we broke for lunch, Kristen cornered me in the elevator. She suggested lunch downstairs in the employee dining room. _Good idea._ At least we could be assured that no photographers would be lurking behind the potted plants. This lunch conversation had the potential for getting ugly.

"I wanted to talk to you about last night," she said hesitantly as she picked at her food. "I was out of line. I'm sorry." I started to say something, but she interrupted and plowed on. "It's none of my business who you're with. And you could be with someone a lot worse than Nikki. She's a nice person, and after I thought about it, I decided she's good for you."

I nodded but said nothing. What could I say, but 'Gee Kris, I'm so relieved you approve of my fuck buddy'??

"Please don't be mad at Nikki for telling me. We were supposed to go shopping and she ditched me, so I pestered it out of her," she continued. "She didn't tell me willingly."

"Don't worry about it. It's cool," I said nonchalantly. Enough said, as far as I was concerned. This wasn't the time or place to delve into it any further.

"So, what do you think about the possible change of directors?" I asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"I just hope they don't fuck it up," she muttered. _My sentiments exactly_ …

The afternoon went much like the morning until the issue of conflicting projects arose. My interest perked up when my agent got heavily involved in the details of the New Moon pre-production and shooting schedules. After an hour of legal wrangling, I realized that my involvement in the film _Parts Per Billion_ was over. Evidently there was no way to accommodate both films, and my first obligation was to New Moon.

I had technically signed on for a three film deal, but details still needed to be negotiated for each one. After the conflict with _Parts per Billion_ was resolved, my agent moved on to the heavy negotiations: salary and contractual commitments. He had informed me beforehand that we were coming into this meeting with the numbers on our side. The combined take for the entire weekend was at $74 million, and future earnings could possibly push this film to the $100 million mark. That was not even counting the overseas take or DVD sales.  My agent was sporting a self-satisfied smile and, I was sure a hard dick too, as he settled in for the negotiations. I was stunned speechless when the details became final. $12 million? I was going to get paid twelve fucking million dollars for a movie I was barely going to be in?My agent left happy, and I left in shock. What the hell was I going to do with twelve million dollars?

As I was heading out the door, Cathy ran down the hall behind me, yelling my name.  "Good. I caught you. How's tomorrow afternoon?" she asked breathlessly.

"Tomorrow afternoon? What?" I was still shell-shocked from the meeting. Her words meant nothing to me at the moment.

"You said you wanted some time off. How's tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh. That's great, perfect," I said as reality came flooding back. "Uh, I need a flight to Vancouver, Washington. Can you get me something?"

"You don't ask for much," she muttered. "On such short notice, I might be able to get you a corner in the cargo hold."

"Get me a private pilot if you have to," I said impatiently. I certainly had the money for it now. "On second thought, just do that. Find me someone good and discreet. I'm sure you have contacts."

"Discreet?" she murmured with a smile. Curiosity was practically oozing out of her every pore. "Are you perhaps off to visit the mystery girl?

"I'm trying to have a life, here," I said seriously. "If you can help me out, I'd appreciate it."

"Not a problem," she replied just as seriously. "Leave it to Cathy. She'll take care of everything."

As I started to leave, she laid her hand on my arm to stop me. "Rob, your Wednesday schedule can be… _rearranged_ …if needed," she said, smiling coyly. "You just need to be back here Wednesday night for Jay Leno. Just let me know and I'll take care of it. And don't forget the photo shoot Tuesday morning before you leave."

I stood and stared, open-mouthed, at her for a few moments as her words sunk in. Had she really given me permission to skip work Wednesday? Yes, she had. I loved that girl. She was the best assistant publicist a guy could ask for.

"Cathy, will you marry me?" I pleaded, laughing. She snickered at my ongoing joke.

"In your dreams, baby. I'll call you later with the details." With a wink, she turned and strode off down the hall.

On the way home, I called Tom and arranged a late night get-together at Chateau Marmont, and then I went home and crashed for several hours. Cathy called later with the details of my flight and then I called Bella to confirm. She sounded really excited about it, and I had to admit, I was too. I was flying into a small airport called Pearson Field and she was going to pick me up.

Then I got dressed to go out. Tom swung by and gave me a ride, along with a couple of other friends of his. We hit the Chateau around 8:00 where we drank and talked the night away until past midnight. Of course, a photographer was there snapping pictures in between Tom telling him to fuck off. I kept my mouth shut and concentrated on being polite. Tom was being enough of a smartass for the both of us.

It should have been no surprise to anyone that we got ambushed outside. The Chateau Marmont was a popular hangout for Hollywood types, and therefore the paps, too. Tom and his friends did their best to shield me from the cameras, but it wasn't necessary. I just ignored them, like always. I was under no obligation whatsoever to be nice to paparazzi or answer their questions. Fuck the whole lot of them. I was buzzed enough that their taunting didn't bother me. I just smiled, tucked my head down and kept walking. It was just annoying to know that my night out with friends was going to end up on the Internet by tomorrow morning.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

_**(-Tuesday, November 25, 2008-)** _

 

A Summit car picked me up around 7:00 AM. I got the photo shoot over with and by 11:00 I was on my way to Hawthorne Municipal Airport. Cathy assured me this smaller airfield would be 'much better suited to my needs than LAX', whatever the hell that meant.

I was soon to find out what she'd meant. My pilot, a grizzled old guy who looked like he had one foot already in the grave, was flying me to Vancouver in something that resembled a toy airplane. He introduced himself as John and assured me I was in good hands. As we were preparing to take off, he kept up a constant litany of his and the airplane's qualifications. He was a Vietnam vet who'd flown missions all over the jungles there and the plane was a Beechcraft something or other. The details went right over my head.

He assured me, with a booming laugh, that I would survive the flight to Washington. "After all," he told me as he stuck a huge cigar into his mouth, "the only dangerous part about flying is accidentally hitting the ground. As long as we don't plow into the dirt, we'll be okay." Then he laughed his ass off at his own sick joke. I was going to fucking KILL Cathy the next time I saw her. Two hours later we landed, _alive,_ at Pearson Field. John and I exchanged numbers. He already knew what to expect. Evidently Cathy had told him to be on standby for whenever I needed him.

It wasn't hard to locate Bella. She was leaning against her car which was parked next to the small building that served as the terminal. The crisp breeze was blowing her hair around her head. Her hands were bunched up in the pockets of her coat, and the biggest smile lit up her face as I approached. _She's so beautiful._ And the car wasn't half bad either.

"Hey," she said shyly.

"Hey," I answered with a crooked smile. "I like your ride."

As we got in and prepared to leave she filled me in on the car. It was her mother's middle-aged indulgence: a black Audi A4 Cabriolet convertible. She laughed with me when I asked her how often she got to ride with the top down. Stupid question. She'd be lucky if it got warm enough a handful of days out of the year.

"How was your flight?" she asked as we started towards our destination.

"That wasn't a flight. That was two hours of white-knuckled hell."

"Oh gosh, I forgot. You hate to fly, don't you?" she asked. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It's just one of those things I have to learn to deal with. I fly all over the country all of the time. Except, the plane is usually a little bigger than a crop duster."

As we drove, she pointed out her home. It was a nice, large colonial—well-kept and tidy. Her family did well, by the looks of things. Instead of stopping there, we drove on by.

"We're not going to your house?" I asked curiously.

"Nope," she answered. "Today's my day to check on the house I watch. Remember, I told you about the couple who winters in Phoenix? My parents are out of town, as usual, so I'm staying at the Foster's tonight. That's their name, by the way. The Fosters…the elderly couple…..that are in Phoenix…. I'm babbling, Robert. I'll stop."

I glanced her way and smiled. _She's nervous._

"You're not babbling." I smiled to try and put her at ease. I wasn't nervous in the least. As soon as I'd seen her standing by her car, a comfortable feeling had swept through me. The connection was still there, for _me_ , at least. I was looking forward to the day and to getting to know more about her.

We finally pulled up beside a two story white frame house. The front looked out onto the street, but the back of the house was set up against the woods. She dug keys out of her purse and told me she'd go in the front, and I'd go in the back.

"Why can't I just go in the front with you?"

"The neighbors will see you. I'm supposed to be house-sitting, not having strange men over. No one can see you go in the back."

Her reasoning was sound, so I walked around and quickly found the back entrance. The door was locked. In a few moments, I heard her voice hissing at me from somewhere above. I looked up and she was leaning out a second story window. "Climb up the trellis," she yelled quietly as she could.

The trellis? What the fuck??  She had to be kidding. "I can't climb up that thing!" I hissed back. "I'll break my neck. Just open the back door."

"The back door is broken. The wind caught it during a storm and now it's jammed, but I saw you in Twilight. You can do this." She was smiling confidently down at me from above.

"Haven't you ever heard of stunt doubles and wires?" I yelled back, a little too loud. She obviously had no clue that I was the biggest klutz on the planet.

"Ssh!" she hissed. "I climb this thing all the time. You can do it."

 _I climb this thing all the time. You can do it_. I repeated her words silently in my head. Actually, my inner asshole was repeating them in his sarcastic, smarmy asshole voice.

I told myself that she was just a little slip of a thing, and if she could do it, well then, I should be able to do it. I tried to push the fact that I fall over on level ground out of my head as I grabbed onto the trellis. I tested the strength of it and surprisingly enough, it seemed pretty sturdy. As I started to climb, I began to think that maybe I wouldn't kill myself after all.

"Just don't look down," she said with a laugh when I was about halfway up. Shit. I really wished she hadn't said that.

I finally made it to the top and managed, with her help, to drag my out-of-shape ass over the window sill. I ended up sprawled all over the window seat with her standing over me trying desperately not to laugh.  I gathered up what little dignity I had left and managed to stand. My eyes swept the room in shock. I took a few steps over onto the beige rug and stared uneasily around me. _Holy fucking hell._ My face was everywhere. No matter which way I turned, my own eyes stared back at me. _She's obsessed with me._ It slowly dawned on me that I might have gotten myself into a "situation" here.

"You're uncomfortable," she stated nervously. I glanced at her and was surprised to see her eyes welling up with tears. I was still too shocked to say anything or to try and make it better.  "I'll take them down," she said, her mouth now in a straight, determined line. I watched her turn to the wall and start ripping pictures off of it haphazardly. The violence of her actions brought me out of my shock. I hurried over to her and grabbed her arms to stop the destruction.

"Bella, don't," I said quietly as she struggled to get loose from me. I turned her body to face me and tried to look into her eyes, but they kept sliding away. _She's embarrassed._ Finally, I had to resort to tugging her chin and forcing her to look up at me.  "This is your private space. You don't have to change anything here because of me."

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry. I should have taken them down."

"It's all right. It's just that I've never been this up close and personal to a serious fan before. It was a shock, but I'm okay with it now." I gave her my best crooked smile in hopes it would smooth things over. I was getting used to it…a little. I was sure, before long, I wouldn't even notice them.

"I'll take them down. They're not that important. I'll do it if it'll make it easier for you," she insisted.

"Well, since you insist. You can take down that huge poster over your bed, if you want. It doesn't even look like me. I hate it." It was the promotional picture of Edward for Twilight. They had photoshopped it to death. My nose looked like I could slice someone in two with it.

"No, that's my favorite one!" she wailed. Then I watched her square her shoulders and march over to the bed, crawl up onto it, and rip the poster down in one violent sweep of her arm. I laughed as she wadded the pieces up into a big ball. Then I laughed even harder when she threw it on the floor and started stomping on it. Last, but not least, she kicked the flattened mess underneath the bed. I didn't know why, but it was funny as hell. Before it was all over and done with, she was laughing, too.

"That actually felt good." She grinned. "Anything else?"

"Um, that cardboard thing standing over in the corner?" I suggested. It was the full sized cardboard cut-out of Edward, and the fucker was staring at me.

" That cost $30 dollars. I'm not tearing that up."

"He's staring at me." I grinned. "It's creepy, Bella."

"That's the whole point. It's supposed to feel like he's looking right at you." She sighed, and then turned it around so that all I could see was the plain brown cardboard panels of the back. Then she cocked an eyebrow at me as if to say 'better?' I smiled and nodded.

She smirked. "Anything else?"

"Nah…I'm good," I answered.

She walked over to the huge four poster bed and sat down at the head of it amidst a pile of pillows. She beckoned me over, and I ended up at the bottom of the bed, leaning against one of the posts with pillows behind my back, my feet pointed up in her direction.  We looked at each other. I patted my fingers against the side of my leg, another nervous habit of mine. I was dying for a cigarette, but I didn't want to smoke in her room. I knew she didn't approve. Finally I thought, 'what the hell', she wanted me to be comfortable, didn't she?

"Do you mind if I smoke? I mean, I won't if it bothers you. It's not like I'll die or anything, I'll just writhe around in agony in the throes of a nicotine fit. It'll be ugly to watch, but …"

"Go ahead," she said, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "I'm not your mother."

She watched me light up and draw the smoke into my lungs. I practically purred with satisfaction as I blew it back out. The nervous tension in my body left with the smoke. "This isn't your room." But it matched her description to a tee, everything except for the pictures.

"The Fosters said it was mine as long as I kept care of their house. They told me I could decorate it any way I wanted," she explained. "I was staying here the night we talked. So, I just described this room."

With my nicotine jitters gone, I felt comfortable enough now to broach the topic. No more skirting around the enormous pink elephant in the room. "You're obsessed with me," I stated as I met her eyes.

She shook her head vehemently, her eyes wide. "Not at all. You've got it all wrong. I know you're probably not going to understand this, but I'm not obsessed with _you_ , I'm obsessed with Edward Cullen. I admire you, Robert Pattinson. I think you're going to go on to become an amazing and successful actor. I'm simply a fan following your career. If you look closely at the pictures on my wall, you'll understand," she finished.

I looked around the room, really looked this time. The majority of the pictures were of Edward Cullen. There was only a handful of _me,_ Robert Pattinson.  I knew I was frowning as I tried to understand what she was saying. She was right. I didn't get it. "You're obsessed with Edward Cullen? He's not real. How can you be obsessed with a fictional character?"

"You make it sound like I'm crazy." She frowned. "I'm not the only one, you know."

No, she wasn't the only one. Thousands of these fangirls felt the same way she did. I didn't get it…at all.  "You're not crazy," I said quietly. "But, maybe you could explain it to me. I've tried to get these girls to explain it and they can't. All I ever get is 'he's hot!' That's not an answer. There has to be more to it than that."

She relaxed back into the pillows and stared off into the distance, as if gathering her thoughts. I smoked my cigarette and waited patiently while she thought about it. Finally she sat back up and met my eyes.

"All right. Here's why I love Edward Cullen," she stated, as she absent-mindedly pushed her hair behind her ears. "He's an old-fashioned gentleman who has manners. He respects women. _All_ women. There's not many of those guys around these days."

I had to give her that. There wasn't. Not in this rap culture everyone seemed to be immersed in at the moment.

"He's intelligent and very creative, musically. A lot like you." She smiled hesitantly as she added the last.

_No. No way. I'm nothing like Edward Cullen, no matter what she says._

"He doesn't see the good in himself, doesn't realize what a beautiful man he is. I sometimes suspect that you don't either."

 _Okay, this shit is going in the totally wrong direction._ "Wait, Bella. You're supposed to be telling me why you like the guy, not comparing me to him. I'm nothing like the character. Let's just get that straight from the beginning," I protested.

"You're wrong," she stated quietly. Her eyes were deep brown and determined. "He's strong, and he has the potential to be bad, but he strives to be good, like _you."_

She must have seen the "what the fuck" look on my face because she drove the point further home.

"I've seen so many movie stars who are rude to fans, to photographers, who act like they can't be bothered by the common people. You're not like that, Robert. I know this fame has to be hard for you, but everyone says the same thing: you're gracious and polite, even when you must be aggravated at the constant invasion of your privacy. You always give of yourself unselfishly, just like Edward."

I didn't know what to say to that. I had to admit, she had a point. Rudeness was not something I made a habit of, but I never would have made the connection myself. It was interesting, to say the least, to begin to see myself through Bella's eyes.

"He loves deeply and passionately and would do anything for the woman he loves. I don't know enough about you yet to know if that's true of you, but I suspect that it is."

Her warm brown eyes met mine boldly and held there, steady and questioning. The feelings those eyes stirred in me were unexpected and intense. The air was charged with electricity and tension. Neither one of us spoke as we continued to stare into each other's eyes.

"He's more beautiful behind the face." Her voice was soft as a whisper now. I began to wonder if we were even talking about Edward Cullen anymore. I couldn't take my eyes off of her as her mesmerizing voice continued.  "No man has ever been so sexy without even trying to be," she whispered, still holding my gaze.

Holy fuck. This was getting way out of hand. If she kept this up much longer, I was going to be fighting off a raging hard-on.

"Bella..." I cleared my throat and continued. "If I snuck into a woman's room and sat in the corner and watched her sleep, that would make me some kind of pervert, wouldn't it?" I smirked. Aah yes, the spell was broken. She was glaring at me with an evil smile.

"Robert Thomas Pattinson, don't you dare say bad things about Edward Cullen. I'll come over there and end you!" she threatened.

"He has a bouffant hairdo," I said with a laugh. Before I knew what was happening, a pillow sailed into my face. "He plucks his eyebrows!" I yelled, laughing as another pillow or two bounced off of my head. "He wears lipstick, for Christ's sake!" I hooted. Every pillow left on her end of the bed rained down on my head. She ended up laughing with me as she finally pulled the pile of pillows off me.

She was on her knees now, her face only a foot from mine, her expression serious. "He's the ultimate soul mate," she whispered. The scent from her hair permeated the air around me. "He's like a love letter you write to yourself that contains everything you want and so much, much more," she breathed.

So much for my effort to diffuse the situation. I wanted, right that very minute, to do nothing but bury my hands in her thick hair and kiss the fuck out of her, but I resisted the urge. I didn't want her to think that sex was the only reason I'd come here. In fact, it hadn't even entered my mind in a serious way until right then.

"Bella," I said uncomfortably as I scooted away from her.

Suddenly her face blushed deep red. "I'm sorry. You must think I'm the biggest skank in Washington," she said not meeting my eyes.

"I don't think that at all. You're just very… _passionate_ …about Edward Cullen." I smiled to ease the tension between us. "What about that review you promised me?"

We decided to move down to the floor and lounge side-by-side in the two large beanbags, while she picked my film to pieces.

"Well," she started. "I was determined that nobody was going to ruin my movie for me. You know, there's always loudmouths and hecklers at movies these days. Anyway, I got my bitch on before I even left the house." She stopped as I started chuckling. "What?" she asked with a frown.

"I'm just trying to picture you with your bitch on." I chuckled. "I can't imagine what that looks like." I pictured a soft fuzzy kitten with angry brown eyes snarling her way through the theater.

"You know what I mean. Nobody was going to ruin this movie for me. Anyway, when the movie started, you wouldn't believe how quiet it was. You could've heard a pin drop. I couldn't believe it. Nobody said a word. If they did, it was a whisper and nobody else heard it.

"Then, when the Cullens started filing into the cafeteria you could tell that everyone in the theater was getting excited. We knew who was coming. And when Edward walked in-" She sighed. "—this big collective sigh went through the theater. It was awesome.

"God, you are such a wonderful Edward." she added.

I smiled and was embarrassed to feel a blush rising on my face. She laughed quietly and continued.

"Nobody said anything until the Biology scene where Bella walks into the classroom. Did you know that people laughed at Edward's reaction to her scent? I thought I was going to have to let the bitch loose for a minute there."

Her face was animated with annoyance. I couldn't help but laugh at her commentary. It was hugely amusing.  "What was so funny?" I asked. I was almost afraid to find out. What the hell had I done wrong?

"I don't know. You put your hand over your nose and mouth. It looked fine to me."

Shit. Editors. "Oh hell," I said, laughing. "We did so many takes of that one scene. We played it so many different ways. After awhile, I got a little tired of it and started acting like a dumbass. It sounds like they picked one of my stupid takes and put it in there." Thank God I hadn't seen it yet.

"Well, I didn't see anything wrong with it. Anyway, nobody said anything again until the bedroom scene. When Edward said 'I just want to try one thing' somebody in the audience yelled, 'Here it is!' And she spoke for everybody in the theater. Ahhh, that kiss was awesome, so intense and romantic."

I started laughing again. "That was the most unromantic kiss ever. It was hot as hell in that room and my makeup was running. They had to stop every five minutes to fix it. Cameras were just a few feet away, and Catherine kept correcting my kissing technique. 'Try going in on the other side' and 'Don't open your mouth so much Rob, we're not Frenching here.' It was awful."

She listened with fascination as I tore her romantic idea of Twilight to pieces. "Well, it looked good in the end, and that's all that counts. You did a great job.

"The only other time anyone said anything out loud was when Alice ripped James' head off. Somebody yelled, 'Go, Alice!' That was me," she said with a grin. Somehow, I could see her saying that.

"Give me the bad news. I can take it. There had to be something wrong with it. No film is perfect," I said.

"Okay. It was too short. They didn't develop the relationship between Bella and Edward deeply enough. It was like one minute they meet in Biology, and the next they're in love. I wanted to see more of the intimacy of the books, you know? They could have done without the stupid diner scenes and put more of Bella and Edward in there."

I nodded. I totally agreed with her, but when it came down to it, money was the issue.

"The meadow scene though.  Yuck! They left out the best line! Bella said in the book, 'I'd rather die than stay away from you.' They left that out. I was so mad. But the fight scene at the end was incredible. So was the flying through the trees. Oh, and the baseball scene was awesome. Just like in the book."

"If I had to guess, I'd say, because of the age of the audience, they didn't want Bella's death reference in there," I suggested. "Stupid, I know, but that decision was made in the editing room."

Then all of sudden, her eyes widened and she jumped. "Oh! That reminds me! Everybody's saying on the Internet that you flipped Emmett off in the baseball scene. Did you?"

_Oh my god, they didn't! They did not put that in there! How fucking hilarious._

"I did." I laughed. "We filmed that scene over and over, too. Evidently, I wasn't falling right to suit Catherine. Kellan and I both were getting tired of it. He started ribbing me, like he always did when he got bored. After another bad take, Kellan called me a pussy vampire, so I flipped him off. I can't believe they picked that one. How funny."

"Robert, you really need to watch it," she admonished after her laughter died down.

"No thank you. That's self-flagellation at its worst," I retorted. "I'd spend the entire movie tearing apart my performance. It would be a miserable two hours for me." I'd probably be forced to sit through it eventually for the DVD part, but I wasn't looking forward to it.

Then we moved from the topic of Twilight to our personal histories. She told me a little about herself, but mostly it was me talking. She listened attentively to the stories of my childhood, and laughed at my tales of delinquency from school.  At some point in the conversation I realized that our hands were linked. I had no idea when it had happened, but it was nice, so I kept her hand clasped in mine as we continued talking. This was turning out to be one of the nicest afternoons I'd had in a while. Just being able to talk with someone who was real, without the fake friendliness of Hollywood, was so refreshing. Listening to a regular person's point of view about Twilight and my life was very enlightening. I was learning more about this craziness from Bella in these few hours than anyone else in the business could ever have ever taught me.

"Are you hungry?" she asked finally.

I smiled. "Yeah, I could eat."

We batted suggestions back and forth until we decided upon Chinese. She volunteered to go get the food, because she didn't want me having to deal with people. I was grateful to her for that. I volunteered to pay, and she graciously took my money. She grabbed her purse and keys and started out of her room.

"I'll be back in a few. Make yourself at home."

I intended to do just that very thing. As soon as I heard her car pull away, I started exploring her room.

_Let's see what makes Bella tick…_

 

**ME AND TOM AT THE CHATEAU MARMONT. HE JUST TOLD THE PHOTOGRAPHER TO FUCK OFF.**

**ME AT THE CHATEAU MARMONT. IT'S SO EXCITING WATCHING ME DRINK.**

**ME AND TOM ACTING LIKE DUMBASSES AT THE CHATEAU MARMONT.**

**ME AND TOM TRYING TO WALK STRAIGHT OUTSIDE OF CHATEAU MARMONT WHILE BEING HOUNDED BY THE PAPS.**

**PEARSON FIELD IN WASHINGTON. I FLEW IN ONE OF THOSE TOY PLANES.**

**BELLA'S SWEET RIDE! I'M GOING TO HAVE TO GET ME ONE OF THOSE.**

 

 


	10. Bella (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INTERESTING QUOTE: "I'm always shocked by the people I'm attracted to…" ~ Robert Pattinson to the editors of Us (Sexy Stars of Twilight) 2009

**~ ROB ~**

I started with the bookcase. It was filled to overflowing, to the point where some books were lying flat on the tops of standing ones. Mysteries. Romances. Lots of fiction that I didn't recognize. Of course, the Twilight books had their own shelf. She had two complete sets. One was hardback and obviously brand new. The other set looked like it had been to hell and back. I chuckled at that, because I did the exact same thing. When I found a book I loved, I bought another one just like it. That way, I had one to scribble notes in and dog-ear my place without guilt, and one to pull out on special occasions, the pages crisp, new and fresh.

A thick book of poetry was lying horizontally with a bookmark sticking out. Edward's face was at the top of it, of course. I was surprised to find a copy of Doomed Love by Virgil. I smiled as I wondered just how far into it she had gotten. It wasn't the easiest story to read.

Then I moved on to her computer desk in the corner. It was surprisingly neat, no mess of papers or notes taped to the monitor like mine. I touched the mouse just enough to make the desktop appear. I sighed as I saw Edward's face again. _Doesn't she ever get tired of it?_ There was a small journal lying by the keyboard, with a pen attached. My fingers were itching to open it and see what secrets it held, but I resisted the urge to invade her privacy any more than necessary.

Her CD tower held a variety of music: alternative, pop, rock and some classics. But the overwhelming majority was rap. How could she stand that stuff? Some of it was pretty good, but most was crap. Maybe I could nudge her in the direction of some smooth jazz and blues. Bella really needed an introduction to the best musician of all time: Van Morrison. Good thing I had my iPod with me.

The cabinet holding the television was closed. I debated on whether I should open it. There probably wasn't anything personal in it. In the end, I decided against it. I'd just ask her about her taste in movies somewhere along the line.

I walked around the other side of the bed to her chest of drawers. There were some pictures of her and a blonde girl smiling arm-in-arm at the camera. Nobody I recognized. Of course, I hadn't been paying too much attention to her friends that night in the bar. I glanced down and noticed a scrap of fabric poking up out of a drawer. Silky fabric. Lingerie. _Open it or don't open it?_ I argued with myself for awhile over that one. In the end, my virtuous self won out. Good thing, too, because at that very moment, I heard her coming up the stairs.

She spread a blanket out over the rug, and we sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor and started devouring everything in those little white boxes.

"So, what'd you find out?" she asked with a small smile.

I just looked at her innocently.

"You snooped around while I was gone. Don't deny it," she said, rolling her eyes. "I practically gave you permission, you know."

"Well, your taste in music…" I started a little hesitantly.

"What, you don't like rap?" she asked astonished.

I shook my head and laughed. "It's all right, but some of it requires the wearing of a condom just to listen to it."

She couldn't help but laugh. She knew it was true.

"Have you really read Doomed Love?" I asked.

She wrinkled her nose. "I tried, I really did, but I couldn't get past the first chapter."

"You did better than Kristen. She didn't even open it. But, if you don't know anything about mythology, you're lost with that one. I saw your book of poetry. I read poetry when I'm writing lyrics. It gives me a lot of good ideas. If you think about it, songs are really just short poems."

She looked at me with big dreamy brown eyes and her smile widened. "Edward writes songs, and every word that comes out of his mouth sounds like poetry, just like you."

So we were back to that again. It was time to straighten her out about a thing or two, time for a big dose of reality.  "Bella," I started, my voice taking on a more serious tone. "You're leaving out a few important facts. Edward doesn't smoke a pack of cigarettes a day or light up the occasional joint. He doesn't hang out in pubs and drink until he has trouble standing up.  And he doesn't fuck up every single relationship he's ever been in."

Her expression grew serious; her eyes were suddenly sad. Fuck. I didn't want her feeling sorry for me.

"What are you talking about?" she whispered. With half empty Chinese carryout boxes scattered all between us, I laid out the plain truth for her. _Better she knows now…_

"I'm not a good boyfriend. I try to be, but I always find some way to mess things up."

"Why would you say something like that?" she asked, her eyebrows pulled together into an anguished frown.

"Because it's the truth. I'm not what everyone thinks I am. I'm a total slob. If you could see the condition of my apartment right now, you'd run the other way screaming. I just don't care about it. And, I'm basically a loner. I'd rather spend an evening at home playing the piano or watching movies or reading, than going out to parties. I have a few close friends and that's all I need. I'm very boring when it comes right down to it."

"I see nothing wrong with anything you just said."

"I'm gone all the time. I work almost constantly. It's hard to build something if you're not even there to do your part," I continued stubbornly.

"It sounds to me like you just haven't found the right person yet," she insisted. "To the right person, none of that stuff would matter."

I sighed. There was no use trying to convince her that I was anything but what she had imagined in her mind, so I changed the subject. "Let's clean up this food."

While she went downstairs to throw everything away, I laid back against the frame in the large window seat, opened the window just a little and smoked a cigarette. When she came back, she sat down facing me and leaned her back against the opposite wall. Our legs were bunched up together somewhere in the middle.

She smiled. "I see you're wearing my necklace." It was tucked underneath my t-shirt. Only the black nylon cord was visible.

"I told you I loved it. I did a photo shoot this morning before I came up, and the photographer loved it so much he let me keep it on in the shots. You'll probably see a picture on the Internet in a day or two," I said, smiling ironically.

The afternoon was quickly turning to dusk as we sat in the window seat and talked about inconsequential things: her schoolwork, her friends, Vancouver, anything and everything except Twilight.

Eventually, I brought up the music thing again. I was feeling pretty mellow. The idea of some smooth music sounded right just about then. I pulled my iPod out of my pocket and uncoiled the ear buds. She smiled when I offered her one. We sat in the window seat facing each other, the wires of our ear buds falling between us, and we listened to my music. I had nearly every Van Morrison song ever written and we slowly worked our way through them. She closed her eyes and listened. We started off with _This Love of Mine_ , a swing tune that had her smiling, swaying rhythmically and both of us snapping our fingers in time.

I loved _Into the Mystic_. It was one of my favorites. I couldn't help but sing along as I wished like hell I had my guitar. She pulled her ear bud out to listen to me, but I protested and made her put it back in. Van Morrison sang it much better than I did. Same thing with _Georgia on My Mind_. Nobody in their right mind could listen to that song without singing to it. She pulled her ear bud out when I wasn't paying attention. When I realized she was listening to me again instead of Van, I laughed and wrestled the ear bud back into her ear as she giggled.

Her eyes sparkled with laughter when _Brown Eyed Girl_ came on. It was the perfect song for someone with deep brown eyes like hers. She bounced and snapped her fingers and even sang a little of the chorus. Her voice was clear and sweet. She blushed bright red when she realized I'd stopped singing along so I could listen to her. It was a joy watching her face as she discovered the music. Sometimes a small smile played across her lips, sometimes her foot or fingers tapped in rhythm. Sometimes she closed her eyes as she listened. I used those opportunities to study her face. Her skin was pale, translucent and silky smooth. Her thick hair waved around her shoulders like a warm, dark blanket. Her lips were full and inviting, begging to be kissed.

Then _Tupelo Honey_ started playing.  What happened after that was inevitable.  Beautiful girl + Van Morrison singing in my ear = Rob's very own personal wet dream.

 _Don't do it, Rob._ _Don't._ _You didn't come here for this._

As I leaned closer in to her face, I wondered, not for the first time, why I even bothered arguing with myself. I never fucking listened.

Her eyes opened as she sensed my closeness. Her melt-in-your-mouth chocolate eyes were swimming with questions, but were still open and inviting. I touched my mouth lightly to hers with a soft getting-acquainted kiss. Tasting new lips. Smelling new perfume. Feeling the softness of someone new. Testing the waters. My entire body was tingling. Electricity had flowed between us in that one soft, chaste kiss. I pulled back and waited for a reaction. My eyes searched hers in question. Did she want this? Was I presuming too much?

She answered my silent questions when her mouth returned to mine. _Tupelo Honey_ was six minutes and fifty-five seconds long, and we kissed every single second of it. Tongues met and explored, hesitant at first, and then deeper. Lips slid slowly over each other, kissing, nibbling, and sucking. Hands dug into hair. Fingers slid along skin. Soft sighs floated in the air. Van Morrison was providing the background music for the most passionate and sensual kissing I'd ever experienced. I pushed her slowly back against the wall and kissed her hard and deeply. Low moans filled the room. I didn't know if I was going to be able to stop the slow, simmering lust that was crawling over every inch of my body.  We finally pulled away from each other when the song _Someone Like You_ started playing softly in our ears.

"This isn't the reason I came here. I want you to know that," I said.

"It isn't the reason I invited you here, either," she answered back.

Our eyes met and held, and in that moment, I knew I was staying the night. Something was happening and we needed to find out just exactly what it was. I leaned my forehead against hers and sang softly to her about finding 'someone like you who makes it all worthwhile'. She closed her eyes and listened, her body swaying just a little, her fingers lightly stroking up my arms as my hands slowly traveled up and down her legs. I stopped singing when our lips came together again with urgency. We kissed and played with each other's mouths until the end of the song.

The very second it ended, I yanked our ear buds out, stood up and pulled her up with me. I wanted to feel her entire body against mine. I wanted to run my hands all over her. I wanted to do what I'd been aching to do since that moment on the bed. I wanted to bury my hands in that thick hair and kiss the fuck out of those beautiful full lips, even more than I already had. And I wanted her to kiss the fuck out of mine.  Considering the shape I was in, I was surprised there were any neurons still firing in my brain. But somewhere deep down inside the dark recesses of my mind a spark brought me back to reality. _What in the hell am I doing?_

"Bella…" I groaned as I pulled her away from me. "I can't do this."

"Why not?" she asked softly. I could already see the hurt in her eyes.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're underage, and I know for a fact I wouldn't enjoy having my ass kicked by a pissed off father, let alone landing in jail."

"There's no one else in this room but me and you. Who's going to know except us?" she reasoned. Good point, but there was still the other problem. She was waiting patiently for me to say something. Shit. This was embarrassing.

"Um…" I started. "Well…" Damn. I ran my fingers through my hair. It was something I tended to do when I was uncomfortable as hell. "I'm not prepared for this. I mean, I had no idea something like this was going to happen."

She stared back at me in confusion. Was she going to make me come right out and say it?

"I don't have any protection with me." I sighed. I felt like the biggest loser on the planet. Even fourteen year old boys carried one around in their wallet just in case.

The breath she'd been holding flowed right out of her as she relaxed up against me. "I've been on the pill since I was fifteen, to regulate my periods. That's not a problem," she said. She buried her face in my chest. It was tinged pink with embarrassment.

I pulled her back so I could look into her eyes. This was serious shit and I needed to see her face for it. "I don't have unprotected sex, Bella. That's just not safe or smart."

Then her eyes bore into mine with that same boldness I had seen before. Boldness that said 'I'm right and don't you dare argue with me.'

"You trust me or you wouldn't be standing here in my room with me... _alone_... to begin with. You know I'm telling you the truth. And if you never have unprotected sex, then there's nothing for me to worry about either. I believe you because I trust you," she stated firmly. "And just so you know…." She hesitated and dropped her eyes. "I've never done this before."

 _Holy shit. She's a virgin?_ The idea of me being her first scared the hell out of me and made my dick hard all at the same time. I'd never been anyone's first before. But I pushed all that aside and tackled the important issue first.  So, once again, it all came down to trust. Did I trust her? I'd given her my home address and as far as I knew it hadn't appeared on the cover of a tabloid yet. No one knew about our meeting that night in the bar, no one knew the name of the girl Robert Pattinson was sneaking off to Washington to visit. She had my cell number, and so far it wasn't blowing up with calls from fangirls all over the world. So she hadn't given it out to anyone.  So, yeah, I trusted her, and I was staying the night.

I apologized for having to stop and make a couple of calls, but what the fuck? All of this talking had stopped the smooth flow we'd had going anyway. Cathy needed to know she had to cancel everything for tomorrow, and John needed to know his grizzled old ass was sleeping in a hotel tonight.

After all that was taken care of, I focused my attention on Bella. For starters, I kissed her over and over again: her face, her neck, her mouth. I buried my face in her hair and tried to match a word with the strangely familiar smell of her shampoo, but I came up empty. Whatever the hell it was, it smelled heavenly.

My hands moved to her shirt. I unbuttoned it slowly, one button at a time. I didn't open it though. Not until every button was loose did I finally nudge the shirt open just a little, just enough to get a peek of pink lace and a full swell of breast. Her eyes were following my every move; they were hesitant and shy. I pushed the shirt off of her shoulders and watched it float to the floor.

"I'm terrible with bras," I murmured with embarrassment.

She reached around and did that behind-the-back magic trick that always amazed me. Her breasts fell free, but they were still covered in pink lace. I slid the straps off her arms and the bra dropped to the floor with a plop. When it came to breasts, I'd always heard that anything more than a handful was a waste. Bella's fit perfectly in my hands, no waste whatsoever. It was like they were made to be kneaded by my fingers and squeezed in my hands. Her nipples were created for the sole purpose of giving my thumbs something to do. And my hands were really busy for a really long time.

The sweetest sounds were coming from her mouth now, and they were only urging me on. Each one of those soft, whispery mewling noises went into my ears and traveled straight to my dick. I never knew sounds could feel so damned good.

Then she tugged my hands away from her breasts and looked up at me. She pulled off my outer shirt and dropped it on the floor. This was the worst part of getting to know someone new: taking off all your clothes and putting all your flaws on display for a total stranger. It was always an iffy proposition, at best, and it was doubly worse for me. I was no muscle bound Hollywood actor with rock hard abs. In my world, a six-pack was something with a Heineken label on it. As she pulled my t-shirt out of my jeans and over my head, I wondered if she could accept the reality of me, instead of some preconceived image in her mind.

Her eyes wandered over my bare upper body. I waited for some reaction, good or bad. She just smiled and started running her hands all over me, and when I say all over, I mean all fucking over. Stupid me. I had made it to her breasts and stopped. Bella touched every single inch of my chest, arms, shoulders, stomach, sides, and as much of my back as she could reach. I just stood there like a six-foot sponge and soaked it all up. It was amazing!

Before I turned into a total wet noodle, I moved on to her jeans. Jeans were my specialty. I had no problem whatsoever with snaps and zippers I could actually see. I unsnapped the top of them and slid my fingers underneath the waistband first. For some reason, I always did this, like I was a little kid again, playing that silly blindfold game where you try to figure out what you're touching. Then I slowly unzipped them and slid my hand in. _Lace!_

She must have thought my jean skills matched my bra ones, because she pulled them off herself. It briefly registered in my brain that her face was pink with embarrassment again, but I didn't care right at that moment. Pink lace panties were calling my name. No, they weren't panties, I realized. They looked like a tiny pair of shorts that someone had forgotten to sew the rest of the fabric onto. They were that small. I had to see the back of those things, so I nudged her around and feasted my eyes on the most luscious sight. No shorts I'd ever seen looked like that. Half of her beautiful tiny butt was hanging out of each side. I moaned and turned her back around before things got way out of hand.

I'll bet you didn't know that dicks could talk. Well let me clear that up for you. Yes, they do. Mine was practically screaming at me: _Do it! Do it! Hit that thing! Now! Right now, dammit! I'm dying here!_ Any other time, I would have listened and obeyed every word he was saying, but this was Bella's first time, and I wasn't going to let HIM ruin it for her. I wanted her to walk away from this experience with the knowledge that not all guys were just horny bastards with clothes. We were, of course, but she didn't need to know that at the moment.

She started to tug her panties off, too, but I stopped her. No way were those coming off yet. She looked way too good in them.

Then her eyes moved down my body and stopped at my groin. I groaned inwardly. Part two of revealing all your flaws was coming right up. Just like I wasn't buff, I also wasn't going to have a long, successful career in the porn industry. I was just an average lad from London who had accidentally gotten himself involved in something way bigger than himself. Average was the key word here. No matter what she imagined in her mind, the reality was going to be totally different.

She fumbled with the top button of my jeans, and then with all the rest of them. Why in the hell had I worn these button fly jeans? Oh yeah, I remembered now. They were the only ones clean at the time. When she got them all undone, she stopped, like she was unsure what to do next. I helped her out and guided her hand to just the right place. My eyes rolled back into my head and I moaned as her fingers stroked me through the denim. I couldn't wait until there was no cloth between her hand and my skin. I resisted the urge to hurry things along. I let her explore and rub all she wanted, as much as I could stand.

Then without any prompting from me, her hand slid inside my open jeans. Her fingers tentatively prodded and stroked me through the thinner cloth of my underwear. My dick was screaming at previously unheard of decibels now. I couldn't ignore it any longer. I think I startled her with the violence of my efforts to get my jeans off as fast as possible. She evidently wanted the honors of taking off my underwear, but had a little trouble maneuvering around my erection. I laughed to myself at her efforts. It seems Bella had an underwear problem much like my bra one. I finally felt sorry for her and helped her out with a quiet chuckle.

I was hoping that all the groping she'd done had prepared her for the fact that I was not a prized stud horse. It was always in the back of your mind. You always wondered how you measured up to past boyfriends, but since Bella was inexperienced, I was fairly confident that there hadn't been anyone she could compare me to.  She just stood there and stared at me. I wished she would say something already. There was a look in her eyes, but I couldn't tell whether it meant 'Holy shit, he's going to stick thatin me?' or 'Oh, God…I can't wait until he sticks that in me.' Which the fuck was it?

What I lacked in porn-star-length, I more than made up for in thickness. At least that's what I'd been told. Bella must have approved because a smile spread slowly over her face as she wrapped her fingers firmly around me. As she stroked me with her hand, noises started coming out of me, and they weren't sweet sounds like hers, they were low and hoarse. I laid my forehead on her shoulders, held onto one of her arms and just stood there moaning my ass off as she moved her hand slowly along my shaft. Although she lacked experience, she really made up for it in enthusiasm. If I let her go on much longer, I was going to finish this in her hand, and I didn't want that for either of us.

So I stilled her hand as my dick called me every foul name in existence: stupid motherfucker being the most prominent one. I ignored the aching and pulled her with me over to the bed. We laid down together with me hovering over her. Her body was tense. I could tell she was nervous by her eyes. I slid her panty shorts off and nearly lost it at the sight of what they'd been hiding. It was a masterpiece in feminine beauty, a blank canvas just waiting for my brush to complete the picture. Then, I spent quite a long time kissing her mouth and neck and every other place on her body, until I felt her relax underneath me.

Being someone's first carried a lot of pressure with it. Mess it up and you could sexually scar the other person for life. Do it right, and you had the possibility of turning a shy girl into a teenage sex kitten. My ego and I were shooting for the latter.  There was no getting around it. I was going to hurt her; I just hoped it wouldn't be too painful for her. Since I'd never done this before, I had no idea what to expect as I slid slowly into her. I stopped before I met resistance. I had no choice. I had to stop. I had to clamp my mouth shut to keep from yelling like an idiot.

God, she was so tight. First time tight. So tight that it had me praying that there were seventy virgins waiting in heaven for little old Rob Pattinson, too. I think I could grow to like spending an eternity doing virgins.

She was breathing heavier now as I pushed farther into her, all the way through the skin that was blocking my way. She flinched slightly, but that was all. I pulled out and asked her if she was all right. She smiled and nodded and tugged at me, silently urging me onward. The nervousness in her eyes was gone now, replaced by longing.

What I really wanted to do was something along the lines of hard, fast and deep, but I reined myself in and started with slow, steady, and shallow. She seemed to like it, because she started making these soft mewling sounds that drove me insane with their sweetness. Evidently I'd done something to please the Stamina God, because I had no trouble continuing this slow, shallow rhythm. I felt like I could do it forever, or at least as long as it brought forth those sounds out of her throat. I wondered briefly what a person should sacrifice to a Stamina God, because after this he was going to deserve one.

Then those soft sweet sounds of hers changed to deep moans. I couldn't stand it any longer. I pushed into her all the way. I dropped my head to her chest and let out a long, ragged groan as I buried myself deep inside her. I'd never had sex without a condom before and the difference in the sensations was indescribable.

Now we'd moved to the slow, steady and deep stage. Moans were coming out of me in a continuous stream as I moved rhythmically inside her. Her hands had found their way to my hair. Her fingers were digging through it as she moaned along with me. I fucking loved it when girls ran their fingers through my hair. That was the only reason I'd put up with the unruly mess in the first place. If it hadn't felt so good, I would have cut the annoying shit off a long time ago.

That wonderful stamina I'd had just a second ago was fading fast. I glanced down at Bella. Her eyes were fluttering open and shut; her lips were slightly parted and they widened with each thrust; her chest was rising and falling with the deep breaths she was taking in, and the beautiful moans she was letting out. My Bella loved this. Watching her enjoy it was pushing me closer to the edge.

I snaked one arm underneath her back, and held the back of her head in my other hand. The necklace I had on was now lying between her breasts as I pulled her to my chest, close and tight. I buried my face in her hair and moved to the last stage: hard, deep, grinding sex, the kind that never lasted long, but felt like it was going to take the top of your head off while you were doing it.

It was then that I felt it. I felt something I'd never in my life felt before. Each deep thrust brought a soft brush of skin across the end of me. _What the hell?_ I stopped and pulled back so I could see her face. "Did you feel that?" I gasped between moans.

"It tickles." She laughed breathlessly.

"What the hell is it?" I asked stupidly.

"Robert, I think you've went as far as you can go." She smiled seductively. "You're at the end of the line."

I stared at her like she'd just spoken in a foreign language. I'd heard of this before, but had never experienced it. I decided to quit wasting time thinking about it. I got right back in there and started experiencing the hell out of it.  I wasn't messing around now. I was into the serious sex stage. I ground into her hard as I gripped her tightly in my arms. My fingers dug into the back of her hair as I continued this grinding rhythm. And each time, each stroke brought that soft brush of skin. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever felt. It was as if someone made her just for me; her body fit perfectly with mine.  It only took a few hard, deep thrusts of this to have her whimpering in my ear that it wasn't tickling any more. From the sound of things, it was starting to feel pretty damned good to her. And to me, too.

Thrust.

"Oh god," she moaned breathlessly.

Thrust.

"Rob….Goddd," she moaned louder. Her voice was higher now as the orgasm neared.

Thrust.

"Rob!" she screamed between gritted teeth as her hands pulled at my hair.

I felt the heat of her spread around me. I didn't think it could be possible for her to get any tighter, but she did. This was going to be the best fucking orgasm of my entire fucking life. One more deep hard thrust was all it took to send both of us into oblivion, moaning, screaming, panting. Any sound that was possible for a human being to make was coming out of both of our mouths. I lost all sense of rhythm as I spilled into her. She writhed her hips against mine to make up for my momentary paralysis. I collapsed on top of her knowing I was too heavy, but I couldn't help it. Every ounce of strength I had was gone.

We lay against each other and spent the next few minutes doing some major heavy breathing as we tried to come back to the real world. Finally she wiggled under me: my cue to roll over. I sprawled over my side of the bed in a state of sexual overload. If someone had run into the room with a gun, right that very moment, threatening to shoot my ass off, I'd have lain right there and let them do it. And I would have been smiling while they pulled the trigger.

I was vaguely aware of her sliding off the bed. I was too far gone to care what she was doing. Bathroom, probably. When she returned, she sprawled herself across me and propped her chin on my chest. She was smiling from ear to ear. My ego was chuckling evilly. _Can anyone say sex kitten?_

"I never knew sex could be like that," she said, still smiling for all she was worth. "I thought that was just stuff for movies."

"Neither did I."

"Don't you dare try to tell me this was your first time," she said, frowning playfully.

"For what we just did? You better believe it. It's never felt like that before." I'd had a few sexual encounters in my short 22 years, but I was beginning to wonder if I'd just made love for the very first time.

"Did you know you called me Rob when you…uh…? That was the first time you've called me that."

"I did?" She frowned. "I don't remember that. Well, would you rather I called you Rob all the time?"

I thought about that, gave it really serious thought. I'd never really liked 'Robert', and preferred Rob, but for some reason, I didn't mind her calling me by 'Robert'."

"Let's just leave things the way they are, although Robert is really a boring, ordinary name. I'm thinking about changing it." I smiled crookedly down at her.

"To?" she asked, smiling hugely. My Number One Fan should already know what I'd rather be called. _Oh yeah, she knew._ I could tell. We laughed as we both said it together.

"Spunk Ransom!"

 

 **Author Note:** Just a little trivia for you. The word spunk is defined several ways. It can mean lively and with energy. But it also has another definition: Spunk is a vulgar slang word that refers to ejaculated semen, more commonly called cum.

Rob has a very dry and wicked British sense of humor. I'll let you decide which definition he meant.

 

  
**MY PHOTO SHOOT WITH BELLA'S NECKLACE.**

 

 


	11. Bella (Part 3)

**~ ROB ~**

We were lying quietly together now, her body tucked under my arm, her head lying on my shoulder. After awhile, she looked up at me and frowned.

"Why are you still awake?" she scolded. "You need to sleep. You're tired."

"If I'm tired, it's my own fault. I stayed out late last night with friends instead of going home to bed. Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy." I sighed.

"Well, I know just the thing to help you out. You're getting The Treatment. Roll over." she ordered, smiling.

I did as I was told, and rolled over onto my stomach and folded my arms up around my head. I couldn't wait to find out what The Treatment entailed. It turned out to be a full body, sensory experience of the hands. Bella scratched, rubbed, massaged and kneaded every inch of me until I was whimpering like a baby. It felt better than sex. Then I mentally smacked myself in the head for thinking something so ridiculous. Nothing felt better than sex, especially the sex I'd just had.

The Treatment worked beautifully. I dozed off to sleep while her fingers were slowly massaging my scalp.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

When I opened my eyes, her warm brown ones were staring back at me, not a foot from my face. I moaned and turned over onto my back and stretched.  "What time is it?" I whispered into the quiet room.

"Somewhere around 11:00," she answered. "You slept almost two hours."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize. It was The Treatment. Guaranteed to work every time."

"Yeah, that was pretty phenomenal. Come here." I smiled and reached for her. She snuggled up against my chest. "Why are _you_ still awake?"

"I was watching you sleep," she murmured. She hesitated before continuing. "You're a beautiful man, Robert."

I was embarrassed to feel an unexpected blush sweep over my face at her compliment. "Uh, Bella," I started to protest her choice of words, but she smothered my objections in kisses.

"You know that kissing thing you did earlier, all over my body?" she asked after we finally came up for air. When I nodded and smiled, she continued. "I want to return the favor."

Well, that sounded like a hell of an idea to me and I told her so. She grinned seductively and bit her lip in anticipation as I stretched out on the bed. Her intense curiosity had her mouth journeying slowly over every inch of my body. I laid back and let her do whatever she wanted, as long as she wanted. Before long, her attention became focused on one particular area. A long period of hesitant touching, soft poking and gentle prodding was starting to make me feel like a giant nude medical experiment. Evidently, Bella had a deep, scientific interest in the human male genitalia.

Then I heard a giggle. A giggle was not something a guy wanted to hear when his girl's head was near his nether regions. I raised my head slightly to see what was so amusing. She giggled again as she showed me. I collapsed my head back onto the pillow and laughed.  Bella had inadvertently discovered the curious male phenomenon known as the Uncontrollable Twitch, and she spent an inordinate amount of time testing her theories on what caused it to happen.

Bella's delicate finger. _Twitch._

Bella's silky hair. _Twitch._

Bella's soft breast. _Twitch._

Bella's smooth lips. _Twitch._

Bella's hot tongue. _TWITCH!_

After a while I began to wonder what the mystery was all about. She should have figured it out by now. It was a simple matter of stimuli/response.  Beautiful girl. _Twitch._ Parking meter. _Twitch._ Tree. _Twitch._ Any fucking thing.  _Twitch._

By the time she figured it out, she had reduced me to a quivering, moaning mess. I couldn't stand it any longer; I'd reached my foreplay saturation levels. I pulled her onto me until she straddled my hips. I buried my hands in her hair and crushed my mouth on hers. Sometime during that kiss, she lowered herself onto me. The kiss was forgotten as that coming together of our bodies had us moaning into each other's mouths.  We lay perfectly still, our hips crushed together and unmoving. Then we kissed again, deeply, in a tangle of tongues. A tiny, soft yelp from her and then a giggling sigh told me she'd discovered that the Uncontrollable Twitch worked inside as well. We spent a long time discovering the various stimuli for _that._

Then Bella started moving, and the lighthearted playing ceased. She was on top. She had the controls. I laid back and offered my body up to her to do with as she wished. Robert Pattinson: Bella's Big. Hard. Tool. I had to admit, it had a nice ring to it. All joking aside, what followed was some of the most incredible sex I'd ever experienced. Excruciatingly slow sex. Not the type I'd engaged in before. Hard, fast and rushed were adjectives that had described most of my previous encounters.  Bella took her time and with the innocent curiosity of the inexperienced; she explored all the various ways to bring herself, and me, pleasure. I went along with her on this slow journey of discovery, and I learned something very interesting along the way. 

Good sex was borderline torture.

Bella and I moved slowly together in a perfect, steady rhythm as our hands moved over each other, as our mouths played together, as her hair brushed across my chest when she let her head fall, as our moans mingled together, as our fingers raked through each other's hair, as our labored breaths washed over each other. Our rhythm never faltered as we slowly moved our minds and bodies toward the pinnacle. We took our time and let the pressure build slowly and steadily. Neither one of us gave in to the temptation to rush to the end. We let it build and build and build until either one of us, or both of us, could stand it no longer. Then we stopped.  We stopped moving. Stopped touching, kissing,or making any sound. We stopped until the heat died down. When we were safely past that point of desperation, then we'd start moving again. Start building again. Start that steady slow push forward until we couldn't stand it. Then we'd stop.

Borderline torture, but in a _good_ way. Put Bella in a cell with one of those suspected terrorists and he'd be singing like a bird in no time, confessing all his crimes and even making up new ones, anything that would get her to stop that exquisite torture and just finish it.

Inevitably, we finally reached a point where stopping wasn't an option. She was tired, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. I asked her if I could take over and she nodded silently. I guided her hands to the headboard so she could lean against it and rest. My hands slid down her slick back. I gripped her small butt and dug my fingers in. That was when the grinding began. I pushed her hips down at the same time I thrust upwards. I was searching for that brush of skin, and I found it, over and over again as our hips collided. The pressure was racing upwards at blinding speed, too fast for me to even consider waiting for her. With one last hard meeting of bodies, I released into her with loud, guttural moans. As I reached the end, I felt horrible that I'd left her behind.  My guilt didn't last long. Her powerful orgasm blew through me like a fierce wind. I'd emptied everything I had into her already, but that didn't stop her pleasure from keeping mine going and going and going and going, like the fucking Energizer Bunny.

The part of my mind that wasn't being ripped away with the intensity of it was screaming: _Two orgasms! You're having two fucking orgasms, Rob!_ The logical part of my brain told me it was more like one and a half, but I liked the sound of two better. I wanted to run to the top of the nearest mountain and shout to the world that Robert Pattinson just had two fucking orgasms, people! My inner asshole added his two cents in proclaiming it was just one amazingly long one. Whatever. With Bella collapsed in an exhausted heap across my body, I was one happy man.

We spent the rest of the night hours curled up facing one another and just talking. We whispered and murmured to each other on any topic that popped into our heads. We talked softly, laughed softly, touched softly, and kissed softly until we were fighting to keep our eyes open. Finally, Bella turned over on her side with her back to me and settled in for the night. I curled my body around hers and lay with my face near her hair. I'd had lots more experience in pushing my body to its limits, so I was able to stay awake long enough to watch her drift off to sleep. As I felt the fog of sleep overtaking me, I thought about what a wonderful girlfriend Bella was going to make some lucky guy someday, and it saddened me to realize that that lucky guy was not going to be me.

And with that thought, I was gone.

\---------------------------------------------

 

_**(-Wednesday, November 26, 2008 Approximately 8:00 AM-)** _

I was in a huge bathtub, filled to my neck with pleasantly warm water, my arms relaxed on the sides. A large plate filled with honeydew melon sat on the ledge beside me. Slices of green honeydew melon floated on the water like rose petals. Bella appeared and slid quietly into the water with me. She fed me slice after slice of honeydew melon. We nibbled on it together as we drank in the scents filling the room. Honeydew melon.

I opened an eye, and as the dream faded, I wondered where in the hell I was. All I saw was brown. Then the thinking part of my brain finally woke up and I realized where I was: my nose was buried in Bella's hair. My subconscious had finally found the word I'd been searching for last night: honeydew melon. Bella's shampoo smelled exactly like it.

But what was even more pleasant than waking up to that beautiful smell, was the fact that my incredibly impressive morning boner was pressed against a woman's back. That didn't happen very often in Robert Pattinson's world, and I planned on taking full advantage of it. I slowly nudged her with it, pressed it into her back harder, and nudged her again—the human male's way of saying 'Good morning honey. Wake the fuck up. I'm horny!'

It worked for a few seconds, until she turned over on her back and ruined the good vibes I had going on. She smiled up at me, her eyes warm and sleepy. We pecked lightly and then took turns in the bathroom brushing teeth, swishing mouthwash and other assorted human necessities. I was praying the whole time during my turn that my boner wouldn't fade. My prayers were answered.

Bella welcomed me back into her arms with a particularly wicked smile. As she gripped me in her hand, she commented on some apparent differences between me last night and me this morning. Then I had to explain all about morning erections to her, how they were the best ones of the day, capable of cutting diamonds clean in two, and also how a man could quite possibly die in writhing agony if it was ignored by a certain beautiful girl with thick brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. She laughed at my pitiful argument, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed the hell out of me.

I dragged her off the bed, along with a pillow and deposited her gently in the middle of the floor, on the beige rug. (If you haven't made love on a hard floor, I highly recommend it. The amount of traction you can get is incredible. There's no soft mattress to give underneath you. Of course, the knee burns suck, but it's worth it in the end.)

Bella developed an appreciation for morning hard-ons and also for my style of lovemaking. We went at it hard, fast and deep—my specialty. It wasn't as great as last night, but it wasn't bad either. We were both left sprawled all over the rug, exhausted from the short, intense burst of adrenaline, gasping for air and clutching each other's hand. I pulled myself back onto the bed and collapsed face first into the pillows. She, however, was bouncing like a spring and full of energy. _What the hell?_

"I'm going to go get us some breakfast. What would you like?" she chirped.

I could have eaten the bark off of a tree right about then, so I really didn't care. "Anything's fine," I said with a soft groan. I watched her, with the one eye that wasn't buried in the pillow, bounce around the room getting dressed, shutting drawers, rummaging loudly in her purse, jiggling keys. _Okay, this perky shit is getting totally out of hand._ "Bella, will you stop?" I moaned. "What's with you all of a sudden?"

She stopped what she was doing and smiled over at me with the biggest, happiest smile I'd ever seen. "I don't know, sex seems to energize me. I feel like I could build a bridge or something right now," she said, laughing.

 _Huh._ That was a new one. Sex making someone perky. It totally crashed _me_ out. I told her to get money out of my wallet, and then I buried my whole head back in the pillows. I felt myself drifting off as the bedroom door quietly shut.

She woke me up when she returned. We ate bagels in bed and talked awhile afterwards. Unfortunately, the time was quickly approaching for me to leave. Reality was slowly seeping in, against both our wills. She had her life to get back to, and so did I. Hers was here in Vancouver, mine miles away in LA.

Our ride to the airport was a quiet one. We exchanged comfortable smiles, held hands when she wasn't shifting gears, and basically enjoyed the hell out of each other's company for a few more minutes. Our goodbye kiss was soft, undemanding, and comfortable.  As I looked out the airplane window and watched her drive away, it hurt like hell. I'd never connected with anyone on that deep of a level before, and it wasn't just the sex. It was also the talking, the comfortableness when we were together, her curiosity and openness.

On the long flight back, I wracked my brain for a way to make it work. I couldn't find one. We lived too far apart. I was going to be gone to Europe soon, and then I'd be home in England for a month at Christmas. I'd tried to tell her you couldn't build something if the other person wasn't even there half the time to help.

Then there was Nikki. And Kristen. My life was so fucking complicated.

Somewhere in those two hours I realized something very important. Never once had I had that empty feeling I'd always had with women. That empty hole inside of me was gone. Bella had filled it.

  
**ANOTHER INTERESTING AND IMPORTANT QUOTE:**

Robert Pattinson says he is desperate to have a girlfriend who lives near to his house as he doesn’t want to travel faraway to meet his future lover. “Preferably not somewhere far from my house. It’s probably the perfect date,” he says.  
\--Source: Espara

  
Sorry there’s no pics. But pictures of Rob and Bella together would be kind of kinky, and I’m not into that. So, you’ll have to be satisfied with just your imagination this time. :)


	12. Free Time and Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INTERESTING QUOTE:
> 
> "I don't see people," he tells GQ. "I don't even have people's phone numbers. I almost don't want to have a girlfriend, in this environment. — Robert Pattinson, 2009 GQ (April Issue)

**~ ROB ~**

I thought about Bella the entire flight home. Even though I didn't see a way for it to work, I couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities. Every happy scenario I conjured up in my mind was met with an equally good reason why it couldn't work. 

For starters, she was underage and still living with her parents. I didn't see them letting her run off with a second rate actor who occasionally resembled a street person, even if he was Robert Pattinson. 

Secondly, I was going to be gone quite a bit in the next few weeks and months with Christmas vacation and then New Moon filming. Having a long distance telephone relationship was not something I wanted. When she turned eighteen, I supposed I could always fly her to wherever I was working, but that was assuming she even _wanted_ to be flown all over the country following my ass around. How did I know what she had planned for her future?

But the biggest reason why this would probably not work was _me_. My life was so fucked up and twisted that it didn't even resemble a normal life anymore. I accepted the fact that I lived in a fishbowl; it went with the territory of celebrity. I couldn't say that I liked it, and sometimes I loathed it, but I was learning to live with it, especially since I'd developed a liking for having enough money to eat.

But a normal and sweet person like Bella? That was different. If she, or any other girl for that matter, were to become my public girlfriend, the media and the paparazzi would eat her alive. I expected paps to follow me around everywhere I went. I knew tabloids were going to print lies about me. I was used to people screaming at me, trying to touch me, and interrupting my private time for autographs and pictures. A normal person with a normal life wouldn't be prepared for the craziness that was my life now. It seemed unfair to any girl to put her through that. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck up Bella's life.

In the end, I decided to push the matter to the side and concentrate on work. I took a taxi home from the airport and scrounged around for something to wear tonight for The Jay Leno Show. Not much was clean, so I had to make do with what I had. _Time for another trip to the cleaners._

I spent some time on the phone with Cathy during which she informed me that I sounded as happy as a three legged dog with two dicks.  I could've done without that image in my head for the rest of the night. Evidently my giddiness over the time spent with Bella was showing, even over the phone.

A couple of guys from Summit showed up later in the evening to drive me to Jay Leno's show. I think it was my stupid idea to stop off for some quick sushi. Considering my refrigerator was bare and I was starving made it seem like a good idea. Of course, paparazzi were waiting for me as I left the restaurant, but I refused to let them get to me. I was still on my Bella High, so nothing they said bothered me.

The Jay Leno Show went pretty well, until I opened my mouth. I have no idea what makes me say the things I do. I could, and often _did,_ blame it on my inner asshole, but we all know who our inner asshole really is. So, in the end, it was my fault that stupid shit came out when I least expected it. The hair question was the trigger. I didn't understand this fascination with my hair, so I just said whatever the hell popped into my head. Heidi was right, though. I was probably never going to hear the end of that one.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

_**(-Thursday, November 27, 2008, Thanksgiving-)** _

Today was Thanksgiving Day, a really splendid American holiday which meant absolutely nothing to me except a day off, but hey, I was thankful for that. My machine was full of messages from friends inviting me to dinner. I spent quite awhile on the phone thanking people and assuring them that I would be fine staying at home. I appreciated the fact that everyone felt sorry for me and wanted to include me in their plans, but I had plans of my own today.

I spent the morning sprawled across my bed reading through the pile of scripts my agent had sent to me. Most of them were pure rubbish, but one entitled _Memoirs_  stood out as quite interesting. I pulled it aside and read through it a couple of times. It sounded perfect for me. The main character was me, pure and simple. It would almost be like playing myself, but the best part of this script was that it was going to be shot in New York City. I made a mental note to call my agent first thing in the morning and arrange a meeting and an audition.

I spent the afternoon puttering around my apartment actually cleaning. I didn't know what the hell had gotten into me. I usually didn't give a damn what the place looked like as long as I could find what I needed when I needed it. It didn't take me long to get tired of that, so then I pulled out my guitar and started playing around with melodies. It's not difficult to write music when you're feeling particularly inspired. All I had to do was close my eyes and picture Bella in my mind and the melody flowed right out of me into the guitar. I played around with it for a few hours until I was satisfied with the flow. I jotted down the actual notes on some scrap paper to refer to later. The addition of the lyrics would come much later. For now, I was pleased with what I had so far.

Around six o'clock, the charity train started rolling in to the station. First Nikki stopped by with a covered plate of food from a get-together with friends. She only stayed for a few minutes, claiming she was exhausted and needed some sleep. I was secretly grateful for that. Kristen was next, with another covered dish from her parents' dinner. She left just as quickly. Michael was waiting for her in the car. I was surprised he even let her bring me anything. He probably wished I'd starve to death to save him the trouble of killing me later. Then Peter stopped by with another plate of food, which I really appreciated, because he was one hell of a cook. Thankfully, no one else appeared at my doorstep for the rest of the night.

Around seven o'clock, I piled onto the bed with food spread out all around me and called Bella while I ate. We talked about how we spent our day, among other things. She was thankful that Thanksgiving was almost over, because her crazy side of the family was driving her…well…crazy. I laughed in sympathy. I had my own version of a crazy family back home in London. Sometimes too much family wasn't a good thing.

"I saw you on Jay Leno last night."

_Uh oh._

"Why in the world do you say stuff like that? You make it sound like you don't even shower or wash your hair?" she wailed.

I snickered at her reaction. "All I can say in my defense is sometimes I open my mouth and stupid shit comes out. I don't know what else to tell you." 

"Now everyone's going to think you stink," she chided. "And you don't. You smell wonderful."

"I don't care." And I really didn't. I'd thought it was funny as hell at the time. Heidi Klum's reaction had made it all worthwhile.

We talked until about nine o'clock, at which time Bella claimed she had last minute homework to do. As we were saying our goodbyes, I opened my mouth and shocked myself by blurting out a request to see her this weekend. _What the hell?_ I didn't even know my subconscious was even considering going back up to Washington to see a girl who was truly wonderful, but who probably would be better off without me in her life. Before I could do anything about it, she'd already agreed that Saturday would be great. Her parents were taking off for a date weekend, and we could stay at the Foster's again. She only made one request: could I bring my guitar this time? We agreed on a time and said our goodnights.

 _What the fuck have I done?_ I'd spent nearly two hours in a plane arguing with myself over how impossible this would be, and I hadn't even been able to go one day without begging to see her again.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

_**(-Friday, November 28, 2008, Black Friday-)** _

I only had one interview to get over with, and then the rest of the day was mine. I was feeling especially happy today. I tried to attribute it to the fact that I'd had more time off in the past week than I'd had in the past six months, but truth be told, it was because I was one day away from seeing Bella again.

The interview with UpClose was actually one of the funnier interviews I've ever done. Kristen had already done her portion earlier in the week, and now it was my turn. It was so refreshing to hear totally different questions, even if they were a little off the wall. I had a fucking great time with it. I left the interview in a good humor and totally stoked for the little shopping trip I had planned in downtown Beverly Hills for the afternoon.

I strolled down Bedford Drive and did a little window shopping and ended up signing a few autographs and posing for several pictures. Thankfully the streets were so crowded because of Black Friday, that not many people noticed me, or maybe they just didn't care, which was fine with me. About halfway down Bedford, I pulled out my cell and called Bella. We chatted about pretty much nothing. I'd just wanted to hear her voice and people hesitated to bother you when you were deeply engaged in a phone conversation. So I killed two birds with one stone by spending the next fifteen or twenty minutes wallowing in the sound of her sexy voice.

My day had started out pretty good, and the afternoon was looking even better. So it stood to reason that it would come to an end, sooner rather than later. While I was talking to Bella, a lone paparazzo spied me and dogged my heels as I made my way down Bedford Drive. I ignored him for the most part, but after a few hundred snapshots, I'd reached the end of my patience. I gave Bella my hurried goodbyes, promising to call her later, and dodged quickly into the first shop I came to. I never even bothered to look at the name over the door. My only goal at the time was to escape the annoying pap.

I found myself standing in a refreshing air-conditioned showroom, with thick blue carpeting and dim lighting. Soft muted music played somewhere in the background. I looked around and noticed several sparsely arranged racks of clothing, and a few customers scattered here and there. I ventured hesitantly over to a rack near me and was a little shocked at what was hanging on it. Holy hell. I had accidentally stumbled into a women's clothing store, but this store didn't sell jeans and shirts. _Shit. I need to get out of here._

Just as I was turning to leave, a salesgirl approached me and asked if I needed any help. I was just about to explain that I was in the wrong store, when another older, more sophisticated woman interjected.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Pattinson. If you would come right this way please," she said quietly. Then she turned without waiting for a response. It would have been rude to just turn around and leave, so I gave up and followed her to the back of the store.

She gestured me into a small carpeted room. A large sofa and end table took up one wall. Two winged back chairs occupied one corner, with a nice coffee table between them. Another wall was nothing but mirrors. The same soothing music that had been in the showroom filtered in from cleverly hidden speakers. I sat down on the sofa and wondered what in the hell I'd gotten myself into, as the woman sat down primly in a chair opposite me.

"Welcome to Under G's Lingerie, Mr. Pattinson. I apologize for Tessa. She's only been working for us a couple of days. Christmas help, you know," she said with a distasteful grimace.

"Uh, she was very nice, really."

"Well, thank you for saying that, but we can't have you rooting around in the racks like a tourist now, can we?" She smiled graciously. "What can we interest you in today?"

 _Oh shit. She thinks I want to buy something._  "Uh, I really didn't intend to come in here. Actually, I was trying to duck a paparazzo that had been following me down the street."

"I can guarantee you the paps won't come into this store. You're free to spend as much time as you want in here." I sat, rather uncomfortably, and debated whether I should just get up and walk out or what the hell I should do.

"Mr. Pattinson, I'm sure there's someone in your life who would appreciate something…decadent and delicious." Decadent and delicious sounded interesting. I was embarrassed to feel that stupid, annoying blush rise up in my face. "Every woman likes the feel of silk against her skin. Perhaps we could show you some things, since you're here," she added smoothly. Then I remembered the unknown silky garment that had been poking up out of Bella's dresser drawer. _What the hell…_

"Sure," I said with a casual shrug. _Act comfortable, Rob. Make her think you hang out in sexy lingerie stores all the time._

"So, what might you be interested in?" she asked.

From the looks of what I'd seen on that rack near the door, I was pretty much interested in every fucking thing this store sold. But, in the interest of time, I narrowed it down a little. "Nightgowns. _Short_ nightgowns."

"Hmmm. I think I know just the thing. May I ask about the young lady's complexion and size? And you can rest assured that anything you tell us is held in complete confidence. We pride ourselves on protecting our customers' privacy."

"She's a brunette with brown eyes and very pale skin. She's about 5'3" and very petite."

"Lovely," she purred. "Would you care for some refreshment while I gather some garments for you to consider?"

That sounded like a plan to me. So while she hunted around the store for short nightgowns, I lounged on the sofa and drank mochas and ate dainty little finger sandwiches. _Damn. I feel like a fucking movie star._

She returned with several short and silky lingerie sets in various colors. Cropped tops with little shorts to match. She gave me one to feel, and I had to admit that the silk felt amazing. I tried to imagine Bella in each one I looked at. I finally settled on two sets, one turquoise blue and the other emerald green.

"You have a very good eye, Mr. Pattinson. She'll look lovely in both of those colors." She smiled graciously again. "Would you like to look at anything else? Perhaps some undergarments?"

Undergarments? This was starting to get excruciatingly embarrassing.

"We have a nice selection of silk undergarment sets. Bras and panties."

 _Panties? Yes!_ "Actually, uh, yeah. Do you have any of those panties that look like little shorts?"

She smiled knowingly. "Those are referred to as BoyShorts Panties or BoyThongs. We have quite a large selection of those." Then she disappeared again and I finished off all the refreshments while she was gone.

Out of the fifteen or twenty so pairs of panties she'd selected, I chose two that matched the nightgowns almost exactly. They were very skimpy and lacy, just like the pink pair she'd had on that night.

"Anything else? Perhaps some garters and hose?"

 _Garters and hose? What the fuck?_   "I think this will be all," I said, clearing my throat. I was anxious now to get the hell out of there before my face could turn another exotic shade of red.

She left and shortly returned with the bill. "That comes to $984.57."

Oh hell. After a short, but extremely uncomfortable silence, she attempted to smooth things over. "Mr. Pattinson, we accept cash, credit cards, and if necessary we'll set you up a private account with our store." She smiled politely. I guess she thought I didn't have the money, but paying for it was the least of my problems.

"Money isn't the issue," I said hesitantly. "It's just, I don't think she'll like me spending this much money on her." It also would look a little presumptuous on my part to show up on her doorstep with expensive sexy lingerie in one hand and my hard dick in the other. I suddenly began to think this was a terrible idea.

The woman leaned in toward me and smiled suggestively. "Mr. Pattinson, you're not buying these garments for _her,_ you're buying them for _yourself_." Then she sat back and patiently waited as the import of her words sunk in. After a while, I started to see her strange and twisted form of logic more clearly. _I_ was the one who would be looking at them, rubbing my hands all over them, dribbling them slowly off of her body. Hell yeah. I was buying them for _me._ And I had no problem whatsoever dropping a thousand dollars on myself without even blinking an eye, especially if it was something I really wanted. She'd convinced me. I smiled and pulled out my credit card. Five minutes later I left the store with my own personal bag full of decadent and delicious sex.

Impulse shopper, that's me.

I wandered slowly past various assorted stores until I found myself on North Beverly Drive standing in front of a small jewelry store. On another impulse, I strolled in and spent quite awhile looking over their selection of necklaces. I finally found what I was looking for, and it was an acceptable price, too. I refused the offer of gift wrapping and instead nestled the narrow black box safely between the layers of decadent and delicious sex.

Finally, I went about the boring chore of restocking various toiletries that I was completely out of. At the end of the day, I went home satisfied with my purchases, although, I still had some reservations about the lingerie. I spent the rest of my evening getting another gift ready for Bella. Then, I called her around ten o'clock and we talked quietly for about an hour.  Before she told me goodnight, she told me she had a special surprise for me tomorrow.

I smiled to myself.  _That makes two of us._

 

 _ **Author's Note:**   _On other sites, I am able to post the videos that go with this story, (The Jay Leno and UpClose Interview, as well as paps hounding him while out and about, but I've yet to figure out how to do that on AO3. I'm not sure it's even possible.)  I would provide links, but 6 years after I wrote this, many seem to have been removed from YouTube.

**ME ON THE PHONE WITH BELLA, TRYING TO AVOID THE PAPS**

 

 


	13. More Surprises

**~ ROB ~**

_**(-Saturday, November 29, 2008, approximately 9:00 AM-)** _

As we approached the airfield, I could see Bella's car parked next to the hangar. I was anxious to see her again, but also a little hesitant. I'd spent the entire flight casting worried glances down at my duffle bag, which contained a change of clothes and The Gifts. I didn't want Bella to get the wrong idea, that I was just some sex-starved guy who only came to see her to get laid. But, unfortunately, the sexy lingerie didn't do much to back up that argument. I decided as the plane's wheels hit the runway, that I'd wait until the last possible moment to present her with the nightgowns. That way, if they didn't go over too well, the weekend wouldn't be a total loss.

I slung the duffle bag over my shoulder and hauled my guitar case out of the plane. She got out of her car and leaned against the closed passenger side door and waited for me. A small smile played across her lips as I approached. I felt myself smiling back in spite of my nervousness. When I was about a foot from her, I dropped the bag off my shoulder and sat the guitar case on the ground.

"Hey," I said, smiling hesitantly.

"Hey, yourself." She laughed quietly.

I was standing there with my hands in my pockets feeling like a shy school boy, when she decided to break the ice for both of us. She grabbed a fistful of the front of my shirt and pulled me to her. The kiss was warm and deep and went on forever. When we both thought it was over, we came up for air and started it again. We leaned against her car and swapped tongues for an eternity.  Remember that nice guy in the plane who didn't want her to think he only came here for sex? Turned out he was just a horny bastard with clothes. What started out as a harmless 'Hey babe, how's it going' kiss quickly turned into a full frontal bump and grind that could have quite possibly sanded the paint right off the door of mommy's Audi. Luckily, Bella stopped it.

"Robert," she gasped, laughing. "Your pilot's watching."

"To fuck with him," I moaned as I buried my face in her hair. My pilot was paid to see nothing, and the other 1.5 employees at this backwoods airfield were nowhere in sight either.

"Maybe we should get to the house." She grinned, planted one last kiss on my mouth, and then slid away from me, skipping around the car to the driver's side. I sighed, stashed my stuff in the back seat, and got in.

We had a nice, comfortable conversation on the way to the Fosters. 'How was your flight? Where did your parents go for the weekend? How do you like this weather? When are your parents coming back?' Somewhere during the ride, our hands ended up linked together. I never understood how that happened. It was like we unconsciously had to touch any time we were together.

At the Fosters, she carried my guitar, jacket, and duffle bag in the front and I crawled in the back. We both stood in her bedroom and just stared across the room at each other. _Well, this is awkward._ What I really wanted to do, I couldn't, because I was trying to be the nice guy who hadn't come up here just to get laid. I was tossing around some ideas for interesting conversation when Bella took control of the situation. She crossed the room in two long strides and wrapped herself around me. We practically attacked each other in a rush of hands and mouths. Buttons came loose, snaps popped apart, zippers slid down. Her hand slid in my jeans and we both moaned. My dick had turned into a flaming sword of hard steel that could have hacked its way through a phalanx of Roman soldiers and came out the other side completely unscathed.

Since I'd begun to see Bella, I'd added tons more choices to my sexual drop down menu. As we tugged and pulled at each other's pants, as Bella smothered me in kisses, I mentally went down the list:

Me on top. Her on top. In the bed. On the floor. On the window seat. On the beanbags. In the shower. In the bathtub. On the kitchen  table. Against the wall.

BINGO! My dick really liked the sound of that last one, so I clicked on it as I pushed her backwards against the wall. I pulled her legs up and wrapped them around my waist and pinned her body to the wall. For a split second, I realized Edward Cullen was watching us; his pictures were everywhere behind her back. I smiled. _Maybe the fucker will pick up a few tips._

Neither one of us wanted to go slow. It'd been two days since we'd made love, and in the sexually active world we were living in now, two days was a fucking eternity. The sound of her hips repeatedly hitting the wall as I thrust into her was driving me insane. She skipped the sweet mewling sounds and went straight to deep rhythmic groans. Her body tensed at the same time mine did. My hands clawed at the walls as hers clawed my back and arms. Suddenly her body bucked against me and my name was echoing off the walls as she screamed it over and over. When I exploded inside of her, I let out a hoarse ragged scream of my own and took two big handfuls of pictures off the wall with me.  Both of us were left gasping for air as we slid slowly to the floor in a tired, tangled heap. Ripped shreds of Edward Cullen lay on the floor all around us.

"I think I hurt Edward," I said with a gasping laugh.

She glanced around her at the torn pictures lying on the floor, and then looked back into my eyes. "To fuck with him." Then she broke out into a smile, and then hysterical giggles. We both ended up sprawled on the big beige rug laughing our asses off. As I lay stretched out on the floor bathing in the glow, I began to wonder if Bella had only invited me up here so she could get laid. I chuckled quietly to myself at the thought. I was pretty sure my ego could handle being her boy toy. We finally dragged ourselves up off the floor and pulled on a few necessary clothes. Bella: bra and jeans. Me: jeans, no underwear. It felt like the perfect time to give her a couple of her gifts, so I leaned over and pulled the duffle bag over to me.

"I have a surprise for you." I smiled as I dug around in the bag. "Well, a couple of surprises, actually."

She looked astonished and then fussed at me for spending money on her. She seemed relieved as I assured her that they weren't expensive. The first one was a purple iPod loaded with all my music. I'd stayed up past midnight making sure all the great stuff was on it. I'd even included some music files from my computer of songs I'd written but never done anything with.

"Robert, these are expensive," she chided. "You shouldn't have."

"I have a million of these things. This is just an extra. I lose iPods quite regularly."

"Thank you," she cooed. "This is so sweet. This'll give me something to listen to in bed when I can't sleep."

"I have something else for you," I said, hesitantly as I pulled the slim, black box out of the bag. I handed it to her and my hand hung in mid air, as her mouth hung open in astonishment.

"Robert," she whispered. "You didn't." Then she hesitantly took the box and opened it slowly. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she covered her mouth in a gasp. "Oh, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Put it on me!"

After a lot of searching in that Beverly Hills jewelry store, I'd finally come across a sterling silver Celtic Eternity Knot similar to the one she'd given me. She pulled her hair up and I clasped it around her neck. It hung low near the hollow between her breasts. She pulled the pendant up in her hand and stared at it.

"Now this really does look expensive."

"I promise, it only cost $65. And you do realize that in Beverly Hills, anything that costs $65 is practically a piece of junk."

"Well, I don't care. I loooooove it!" she squealed. She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and we fell backwards onto the floor, kissing and laughing.

She smiled and propped her chin up on my chest. "I have a surprise for _you."_

"Oh, you mean the wall thing wasn't my surprise?" I asked, smirking.

"No, silly. Do you remember when we talked while you were in New York and you said you never got to sightsee because of your schedule?  Well, I thought we could go out today. It's supposed to warm up some this afternoon."

I wasn't sure I liked my surprise. The thought of going out into the real world with her was a little unnerving. She had absolutely no idea what a circus that could turn into.

"I see that frown," she said. "But where we're going there's very few people, and it's beautiful. I promise, Robert, you'll love it."

"So, where is it we're going?" She looked so excited that I didn't have the heart to say no. I only hoped we both didn't end up regretting it.

"Moulton Falls. It's about twenty miles from here. Very isolated and out in the wilderness. Trust me, there won't be many people there. Nobody goes there this late in November."

So, we bundled up in jackets and hats and took off for Moulton Falls. I slouched down in the seat until we were outside the city limits of Vancouver. When the buildings and pavement of the city gave way to acres and acres of nothing but trees, I sat up and enjoyed the view.  She played tour guide as we drove. She informed me that we were on Lucia Falls Road and pointed out the Lewis River that ran parallel to the highway in places. According to her, the park was 387 acres that lay at the junction of the Lewis River and Big Tree Creek.

We parked the car in the nearly deserted lot. I got out and looked around with my hands in my pockets. It had been my experience that Mother Nature could have lots of nasty surprises for people like me, people who thought grass was black and a tree was a silver light pole. I was a city boy, born and bred. My occasional ventures into Hyde Park in London had often resulted in skinned knees and sprained ankles. I hoped Bella didn't have to drag me out of there on a stretcher.

She took my hand and we started off. We walked along the two mile trail through the woods. The fallen leaves that covered the ground were sodden with damp and muffled our footsteps. A lone jogger ran past us with ear buds in her ears, oblivious to anything but the ground under her feet. Bella was right. As we walked, I began to appreciate the beauty of this place. The stillness, the stark emptiness of it was an inspiration. Phrases began popping into my head as we walked-images of nature that could be weaved throughout a song. Bare, empty trees. Gray leaden skies. Cold clear water. Perfect for a lyric of lost love.

We peered into the train tunnel but didn't go inside. Bella informed me it didn't run this late in the year. We sat on a large flat rock and gazed at the falls, the loud rushing water drowning out any attempts at conversation. We just sat holding hands, each lost in our own thoughts. Another couple walked past us, but they were so wrapped up in each other they never even knew we were there.

We continued onto another trail and Bella grew excited the closer we came to an opening in the trees. She pulled me quickly by the hand and we emerged out of the trees onto an arched foot bridge that spanned the river. She grinned as she pulled me along. We stopped in the very center of it and gazed out at the view around us.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she whispered, smiling.

Somewhere behind us in the distance, rushing water could be heard. But right below us the water was still and crystal clear, shallow enough to see the rocks on the bottom. The banks on either side were rocky and bare. Towering pines and leafless hardwoods surrounded us as far as we could see. It felt like we were the only two people on earth.

"Love rushed over me like a cold mountain stream, smoothing the rough edges of my soul," she whispered. I glanced over at her and she was staring off into the distance with a small smile playing over her lips.

"Bella, that was beautiful." I was stunned at the image she'd formed in my mind with just that one sentence.

She laughed softly. "I've always wanted to be a writer."

"Well, you should pursue it. That was incredible."

She smiled and turned to me, unzipping her jacket and mine. We slipped our arms around each other's waist.  "Burning lips that warm my frigid mouth," she murmured as her mouth closed softly over mine. We snuggled close together and warmed both of our frigid mouths for quite awhile.  Her hands snaked underneath my shirt. I gasped at the coldness of them. "Cool fingertips trailed a line of scorching heat across my skin." My mouth found hers again as she trailed miles and miles of that scorching heat across my stomach and along the top edge of my jeans. 

Then I decided to trail some scorching heat across her skin. She gasped and laughed softly as my cold hands grew comfortably warm from the effort.

"Desire hardened into unyielding lust with one cool, gentle touch," she whispered as she brushed her finger lightly across the front of my jeans. Damn. My desire was hardening all over the fucking place.

"Bella," I moaned as her fingers continued their light touches. "Let's go back to the car."

She laughed and grabbed my hand. We half-walked, half-ran back to the car. She started the engine and pulled the car over into a wooded area off the parking lot, away from any prying eyes that might suddenly appear.

"Ever made out in the backseat of a car?" She grinned suggestively.

I glanced over my shoulder at the back seat. I didn't think I'd fit, but I was willing to give it a try. "No."

A six foot one inch man trying to crawl between two seats was not a thing of beauty to watch. After a lot of grunting, laughing and cursing on my part, Bella informed me with a droll smile that I could have just used the doors. Shit. That was what happened when other body parts did the thinking instead of my brain.

We tried a couple of different positions, including me sitting with her on my lap and me sprawled across the seat with her sprawled on top. Nothing worked. We always ended up with an armrest poking one of us in the back, or someone's feet bunched up in an awkward position, or someone's leg hanging off the side of the seat and going to sleep. After a lot of laughing and aggravated mumbling, we gave up, deciding that romantic car sex only happened in the movies.

We were sitting in the front seat once again, feeling a little frustrated. Bella started laughing quietly to herself.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about my mother's reaction if she found out we tried to make out in her car."

"I'm sure it would involve a lot of ass kicking," I mumbled.

"Actually-" She grinned. "—my mother loves Twilight more than I do."

Oh fuck. "Another Edward lover? Is it genetic or something?" I asked, sputtering with laughter.

"Oh, she's not obsessed with Edward Cullen," she said slowly and with a wicked grin.

I glanced over at her, and she was fighting not to laugh. Then it dawned on me what she meant.

"No. Please tell me she's not obsessed with _me_ ," I moaned.

"Yep. My mom's a cougar of the highest order." Then she giggled her ass off. "It does make conversation a little awkward at times."

I chuckled. "I'll bet." 

That was the end of that conversation as far as I was concerned, so I quickly switched gears. "You know, you should really think seriously about writing. You have a gift with words. I mean that."

"I don't know. I've thought about it. But I don't know if I'm good enough to make money off of it."

"Trust me, you're good enough. Anyone who can make freezing your ass off sound like you're having an orgasm has talent."

She laughed at my remark but didn't comment further. We went through a fast food drive thru on the way back. I laid the seat down and threw my jacket over my face and did a pretty good imitation of a jet-lagged relative just trying to catch some sleep.

As soon as we made it into the house, we sat in the middle of the rug and devoured our food. She grabbed the pen and the little journal that was lying beside her computer keyboard—the one I'd been dying to have a peek into. As she wrote, she explained how phrases often came into her mind during the weirdest times, and she kept that journal handy so she could jot them down. I did the same thing with lyrics, except I wasn't organized to the point that I kept them in a notebook. They usually ended up as various bits of flotsam taped to my monitor. She ended up writing down all the things she'd said to me in the park, and I even added a few of my own.

After we cleaned up the food, she asked me to play some songs on the guitar for her. She relaxed back on the bean bag and listened while I went through my repertoire. Some were nice, and some were just unfinished snippets of tunes that had never made it onto paper, and some of them were just pure shit—the result of a night of too much drinking.

I played and sang the two songs from the Twilight soundtrack for her as my encore. The look on her face when I'd finished made me think I'd pushed her Edward Cullen button again. I couldn't have been more wrong.

She sighed. "Are you going to do anything with your music?"

I just shrugged my shoulders. It was practically impossible to make money in the music business, and it seemed opportunistic to try and capitalize off of Twilight. If it had been a script that I'd written personally, it would have been a different story.

Then she scooted over in front of me and took my face in both of her hands. "Do you have any idea how beautiful your voice is?"

I'd never been able to take a compliment very well without blushing in embarrassment or brushing it off as silly. "I don't know." I shrugged. "It's just my voice."

"I can't get over how soulful it is. It doesn't even sound like it should be coming out of your throat," she said quietly. "You need to do something with it."

"I don't sing to make money. It's just something I have to do." And the one thing that I really regretted about all this Twilight craziness was that I couldn't just go out and do an open mike at some bar. It always ended up on YouTube.

"When you pour your heart out and sing like that, you're sharing something special with people. You can't just keep something like that to yourself."

"I may get around to it." I shrugged. I didn't see having the time to do an album or anything, but I was always writing and composing. _Who knows. Maybe someday?_

She finally gave up and lay back on her bean bag and listened. I played and sang a few of Van Morrison songs for her and a couple of times she even tried to sing along. Sitting around playing guitar, singing, talking and laughing was my idea of a perfect date. I could've played all night, but I finally sat the guitar down behind me. We were both in a laid back, mellow kind of mood, so now seemed like a good time to give her her last two gifts.

"Bella…" I said hesitantly, clearing my throat. "I have one more surprise for you. Well… _surprises_ …actually."

Her brows came together in an annoyed frown. "You've given me enough already."

"Well," I started. I reached over and pulled my duffle bag to my side. "These were sort of an impulse purchase."

She crawled over and sat cross-legged in front of me. Then I explained what had happened after I hung up with her: that I'd darted into a store without looking at the name, and then I'd got roped into buying stuff when I really hadn't intended to. But then I explained that I was really happy with what I'd ended up purchasing. I was just getting into the part about quality versus quantity and 'you get what you pay for' when she interrupted me.

"Stop stalling and just give it to me," she growled with a frown.

I pulled out the two lingerie sets and laid them on the floor between us. She looked down at them in silence for a long time. Then she slowly pulled one up and caressed the fabric in her hands, and then rubbed it against her face.

"This isn't Wal-Mart silk. This is real silk," she whispered in awe. "Oh my God, Robert, they're beautiful." She sighed with pleasure as she continued to rub her hands over them. Then I watched her brown eyes go dark with determination.  "But I can't accept them," she stated, laying them carefully back down on the floor. "I won't let you spend such an exorbitant amount of money on me."

"I'm getting paid a ridiculous salary for New Moon. I have enough money. Besides-" Here was where the argument got a little fuzzy. "—I didn't really buy them for _you_. I bought them for _myself,_ " I pronounced, smiling.

She looked at me in astonishment for a few seconds, and then laughed her ass off. "Oh boy. Somebody saw you coming. Who convinced you of that? The saleslady?"

"Well, yeah. If you think about it, though, _I'm_ the one who's going to get the most enjoyment out of them." I smirked. "And there are a couple of other things, too." She seemed to be weakening, so I pushed on. I pulled out the two pair of panties and laid them on the floor. Then I looked up and watched the reaction in her eyes.

She put her hand over her mouth and grinned. Her eyes were sparkling. "I guess you bought these for you, too?"

"Okay, okay. I fell victim to a ruthless sales woman, I admit it." I said sheepishly, running my fingers through my hair. But she seemed to like them, nevertheless.

She ran her fingers over everything lying between us. Finally a small smile spread slowly across her face. "So, maybe I could… _borrow_ … them? That is, if you're not planning on using them anytime soon. Just for tonight?" she asked, grinning sweetly.

"How about the blue one first?"

 

**BELLA'S ETERNITY KNOT NECKLACE**

 

**MOULTON FALLS FOOT BRIDGE WHERE BELLA AND I WARMED EACH OTHER UP.**

 

**THE FALLS WHERE WE SAT HOLDING HANDS**

 


	14. Everything's Clearer Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Just wanted to point out that Rob still smokes even though I don't write about every single cigarette that goes into his mouth. Like condoms and bathroom breaks, cigarette smoking is understood to be happening. Rob probably goes through a pack a day. So use your imagination and insert a cigarette into the story whenever you wish.

**~ ROB ~**

 

I stood and waited for her at the foot of the bed. When she came in from the bathroom and shut the door behind her, she stopped and stood with her hands by her side. She was allowing me that time to just look at her body, to enjoy the sight of her in that blue silk that was hugging her every curve. And I took my time about it. My eyes slowly touched and caressed every part of her. The silk clung to her like a second skin. Her breasts swelled above the push-up cups. Her nipples were hard and pressing against the snug fabric. A very tiny expanse of smooth skin peeked out between the top and the little matching shorts—just enough to make a man want to see more. The shorts rode high on her hips and low on her waist. I motioned for her to turn around. I had to see the back. _Beautiful_ …

She turned back around slowly and I had a smile waiting for her. She smiled widely back and I closed the distance between us. I took her face in my hands and devoured her mouth. Then I ran my fingers through her hair, and moved my hands over her back and farther down. As I continued the kissing of her mouth, her face, her neck and her shoulders, my hands were in constant motion.

There was a reason I'd waited for her at the foot of her bed. The door which lay directly in front of us had a full-length mirror on the back. When it was shut, like it was now, it offered a sensual glimpse into another world, a world where I could watch my hands move over her body, instead of just imagining it. A world where we _both_ could watch. I turned her around until her back was leaned against me. I stood behind her and smiled at her in the mirror. She smiled back at our reflection. Then my hands started moving slowly over her as we both watched.

My fingers moved lightly over the silk, feeling the soft texture of it, and soon her fingers joined mine. Her hand rested lightly on my hand and together we explored her body. When my fingers caressed silk, hers did too. When mine slid down her stomach and into the shorts, hers followed with a soft sigh from her lips. When my hand cupped her breast her hand enveloped it, too. We kneaded and squeezed them both together, our fingers moving in unison as they rubbed her nipples through the silk. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned back against me with a soft moan. The sight of her touching her own breasts with her fingers and those sweet mewling sounds she was making while doing it, was threatening to send me over the edge. I tugged her hand away and turned her around to face me. We both were breathing heavily as I pulled the top over her head. She tugged the tiny shorts off and all that was left were those lacy panty shorts that made my dick start singing the Hallelujah Chorus every time I saw them.

"That lingerie was worth every fucking penny," I breathed softly against her mouth in between kisses.

Her only response was a soft moan and then a deeper one as I pressed myself against her.

She turned back around and was standing against me as before, except now, all she was wearing were the panties. Once again we explored her with our connected hands. We watched our fingers dance together as they touched her skin, brushed her nipples and squeezed and kneaded her breasts. Moans and whimpers were coming out of both of us as we watched our reflections. For the first time in my life, I was able to see the desire in my own eyes that I'd only seen before in a woman's. My eyes mirrored hers: hooded and dark, with barely controlled lust.

A deep moan of 'Oh God, Rob' slid out of her throat. I turned her around and attacked her mouth, her neck, her face with my lips and tongue. I moaned how much I wanted her into her hair, her mouth. I leaned my forehead against hers, gasping and moaning softly as I watched her slowly take off my jeans. Her fingers lightly brushed down my stomach, and I knew if she touched me it would be all over. I stopped her hand and asked for a few minutes to calm myself down. This was too fucking good not to be drawn out and enjoyed as long as possible. I wanted it to last. I wanted it to go on for fucking ever. No one had ever loved me like this.

We leaned against each other and waited it out. A stray soft kiss or a stroke of a finger across skin was all either one of us could stand. We were careful not to touch each other any more than necessary as we let the heat gradually die down. The borderline torture was back with a vengeance, and I loved it.

When we finally felt calmer, we moved onto the bed. She slid off the panties and stretched out underneath me. Her hands ran down my chest and arms as I hovered over her. We both moaned and praised God between clenched teeth as I slid slowly into her. There was nothing on this earth, no pleasure that could even be imagined, that could compare to being inside of a woman who truly cared about you. Bella had helped me discover that simple but profound truth in the short time I'd known her.

I found a slow, steady rhythm of long strokes that would prolong both of our pleasure as long as possible. Being musically inclined, keeping rhythm was one thing I was exceptionally good at, and my rhythm never faltered as I moved us ever so slowly toward the end we both craved.

And then something happened that had never happened to me before in all of my short sexual life: I started talking. _Talking!_ I'd never talked during sex in my entire life. In the past, I'd always had a single-minded, silent focus: get it in, get it done, and then get it out. But what was bizarre was that I couldn't stop. A part of my brain was screaming, 'Shut the fuck up, Rob. You sound like a babbling idiot!', but the other part—obviously the part in charge at the moment—was sending words out of my mouth as fast as I could utter them.

While I moved slowly inside of her, I told her how wonderful her hair smelled. I described to her in soft moans what it felt like when I was inside of her, how tight, hot and wet she was. As she moved slowly with me, I told her how her breasts fit perfectly in my hands like they'd been made just for me. I kissed her without breaking rhythm and whispered to her how much I loved her mouth, that I could kiss it for hours on end without pause, and that I loved sucking and nibbling at her lips and sliding my tongue between her teeth. And the entire time I talked, her eyes followed me, watching my mouth move, sliding back to catch my gaze or fluttering shut with pleasure. My intelligent supply of words finally ran out and I was now reduced to Neanderthal grunts and moans as the pleasure was becoming more pressing and unbearable. Bella took advantage of my silence and began some talking of her own.

As we moved closer to the end, she murmured to me how she loved my eyes, the way they changed color in different light. She ran her fingers through my hair and whispered how beautiful it was when it was a mess. As I pushed deeper into her, she told me in soft gasping whispers what I felt like inside of her: hard, thick and insistent. Fuck. No one had ever told me anything like that before. I was teetering on the edge of insanity. I was dying a slow and pleasurable death as she continued whispering how much she loved the stubble on my face, the line of hair that ran down my stomach, the feel of my muscles as my body moved.

Then I faltered in my rhythm, but only long enough to begin my search for that brush of skin—a hard, deep and grinding search. I found a few remaining words left floating around in my brain to tell her how soft and light she felt against the end of me. She whispered back how it tickled at first but then felt as good as all fuck. If I'd been thinking with even a miniscule part of my brain, that last sentence would have been a clue as to what was coming next. Because then, Bella sent me onto another sexual plane as she began to murmur sentences that were heavily laced with the word 'fuck'. I'd never heard that word used in so many different ways before. And the way she said it, so whisper soft and feminine. It lost all of its vulgarity and moved into the realm of beautiful and erotic.

The distance that separated our bodies was unbearable. I wanted to hold her tight against me. I wanted to feel her chest heaving beneath mine with the exertion of her pleasure. I wanted to hear those words whispered in my ear as I held her and pushed us closer. Her cries were becoming deeper and hoarse, her words dissolving into moans. She stopped talking as I gathered her close in my arms. I begged her with my last coherent thought to talk to me, to say it… _now_ ….in my ear. As her orgasm grew, she dug her fingers into my hair and said it. It came from deep down in her throat bringing with it all the pleasure that was filling her body. And with that one word, that one incredibly sexy word she took me with her, screaming her name hoarsely into the pillows, as the powerful orgasm shuddered through my body.

I wanted it to never stop, but a person could only take so much pleasure before the senses overloaded. I collapsed along side of her, my weight only partially on her body. For several minutes, our lungs gasped for air as our minds grasped at reality. Our hearts thundered in our chests, our limbs were limp with exhaustion. We both lay against each other in a state of complete physical and mental satisfaction.  Every time I thought the sex couldn't get any better, it did.

I finally managed to drag myself off of her and onto my side of the bed. I heard her leave my side, and wondered how in the hell she could even walk. I was done. Finished. Out of commission for the foreseeable future. If she came bouncing out of the bathroom a ball of energy wanting to build bridges, I was going to kick her ass. Then I laughed at my own stupidity. I couldn't even raise my leg up off the bed, let alone kick anyone's ass. She returned and lay down on her side facing me. I managed to roll over onto my side as well.

"Wow, that was…." Then she chuckled and shook her head. Bella, the writer, was at a loss for words.

"Yeah," I added my own profound statement to hers.

"You should send that sales lady a thank-you card." She laughed and I laughed with her in agreement.

"You know, I never knew 'fuck' could be used so many different ways."

Her brown eyes were shining with amusement. "Oh yeah, didn't you know that 'fuck' is the most versatile word in the English language? It can literally be used as any part of speech."

"Well, I think you covered them all." I smirked. "And I love your way with words."

She reached over and tousled my hair. "Your hair is so beautiful," she murmured.

"Please don't go on about my hair, Bella." I just didn't see the fascination with it.

"Do you know what they call it on the Internet?" she asked, ignoring me completely.

"What?" I sighed. I really didn't want to know.

"Sex hair."

_Sex hair? What the fuck?_ I felt that stupid blush spread over my face.

"Do you know what they call this?" she asked as she ran a finger lightly over my jaw line.

I didn't even bother to respond. She was going to tell me whether I wanted to hear it or not.

She giggled. "Jaw porn." 

I frowned. "Jesus, that's ridiculous, Bella." And embarrassing. Shit like that was exactly why I'd stopped Googling myself a long time ago.

"You really don't get it, do you? You really have no clue why women go crazy over you?"

I shook my head. I really was uncomfortable with this conversation. I found the whole idea of mass adulation too absurd to even acknowledge.

"If the women of the world could see what I'm seeing right now…" She smiled, shaking her head. "Your hair is sticking out in all directions, and there's that little bit hanging over your forehead into your eyes—" She reached over and brushed it back. "—and you have that sexy five o'clock shadow going on. Your mouth is slightly swollen from all the kissing we just did, and you're completely naked." She smiled wickedly at me. "If they could see what I'm seeing, we'd have the first known case of mass orgasm in world history."

What a load of shit. I made a disparaging sound that gave her little doubt of what I thought about that.

"Let me tell you why all these girls and women are obsessed with you." Her voice was serious and the laughter was gone. She had that look in her eyes again, the one that said 'I'm right and don't even think about arguing with me.'  "When they see a picture of you, with your beautiful eyes fucking that camera—" My laughter at her choice of words interrupted her thought.  "You know what I mean. You've been a model. You know how to work that camera, Robert. Don't you dare deny it.

"Anyway, when you smolder like that and look directly at them, they want to crawl right through that lens and fuck your brains out. And then, someone will say something to you, maybe pay you a compliment, or say something personal, and you dip your head and blush. Right then, those same women who wanted to fuck your brains out a minute ago, want to crawl back through that lens and gather you in their arms and hug you to death.

"You're masculine and sexy, but at the same time you're hesitant and shy, all wrapped up into one alluring package. You're like a gift a woman can enjoy opening over and over again, so she can gaze in wonder at what's inside, stroke it, caress it and marvel over its beauty."

I frowned silently at her for several moments, and then I laughed my ass off. "You really need to be a writer, Bella, because you are so full of shit it isn't even funny." She smacked my arm playfully and laughed along with me. We both fell silent as we filled the next few minutes with soft, warm kisses.

I pulled away from her and drank in her face. She was so beautiful. "Bella," I whispered. She arched her eyebrow at me in question as she detected the change in my tone of voice. "What's your real name?"

She stared back at me in total seriousness, the sparkle of amusement gone from her eyes. "Isabella," she whispered.

"Really? It's really Isabella?" I asked quietly. She nodded silently. Finally, I saw the truth in her eyes.

"What's your last name?"

"Robert, you could've already found out my entire name if you'd wanted to."

"I wanted you to be the one to tell me," I said quietly.

"Anderson," she answered.

"Isabella Anderson," I said slowly. "Middle name?"

"Abigail."

"Isabella. Abigail. Anderson." I said smiling. "It fits, somehow."

"Everyone calls me Abby though. Everyone except for you."

_Abby._  "I think I prefer Bella," I said. After all, I'd made love to Bella and that was who she'd always be to me.

"I've always hated the name Isabella. It sounds so old-fashioned. But then when all this Twilight stuff started, people thought it was awesome. So, I use it sometimes. Like that night in the bar," she admitted sheepishly.

"You know, I really thought you were crazy that night," I said, chuckling.

"I know."

"I mean, your name being Bella, and you said you were from a small town in Washington."

"So that's where you got the idea I lived in Forks," she hooted. "So funny!"

"And then you saying Mike was a good buddy. That was almost word for word from the movie and you hadn't even seen it yet. It was creepy."

"Well, there _is_ a Mike in our neighborhood, and we _are_ good buddies. He's eat up with piercings and tattoos, but he's got a poet's heart and his writing is beautiful."

"I was afraid to ask your last name, I just knew you were going to say 'Swan' and then I was going to have to flip out right there in front of a bar room full of people." I laughed. "You scared the shit out of me for awhile there, Bella. I imagined you pulling out a knife or something and professing your undying love before you shoved it into my stomach."

"Oh, my god," she gasped. "I'm so sorry. I never imagined you'd take it that way."

"And then, at the hotel parking lot, where you told me the names of all the people you were going to the movie with, and they were all characters from the book? I knew right then that you were totally fucking crazy."

"But you still asked for my phone number," she said, more serious now.

"Yeah," I admitted, smiling. "I did."

"Jessica and Angela really exist. They're my best friends," she explained. "Except I call them Jess and Angie. Jess is blonde and bubbly, kind of ditzy, everything I'm not. And Angie is…well... Angie is unique. She has this really droll sense of humor. She's very blunt and says exactly what she thinks, no hold barred. They're the best friends a girl could ever have."

"What about Jacob?" I asked.

"Oh, there really is a Jacob, but he's a loser. Does drugs and stuff. Not my thing." She visibly shivered.

"Leah, Emily, Ben, Tyler?" I asked.

She smiled and shook her head. "Total fiction."

"Why would you say that to me and have me believing you were crazy as hell?"

"What can I say, Robert? Sometimes I open my mouth and stupid shit just comes out." I laughed as she threw my own words back at me. Bella and I had something else in common, it seemed.

"I'm glad you finally told me all of this."

"Me too," she whispered.

I rolled onto my back, and pulled her close. She snuggled against me and entwined her legs with mine. I idly played with her hair as we talked. She lazily ran a finger up and down my stomach as we spent the next couple of hours discovering even more about each other.

She fell asleep before I did, which left me with a lot of time to think. I gently rolled her onto her back. She stirred briefly, but then fell back asleep. I spent an unknown amount of time propped up on one elbow with my head in my hand, just looking at her and watching her sleep.

Fame and fortune was not all it was cracked up to be, as I was discovering. I couldn't walk the streets in anonymity any more. My privacy was invaded on a daily basis by fans and photographers. Everything I did, public and private, was scrutinized by the media. My past had been dug up and spread all over the Internet. Anyone who knew me, including my close friends and family, were constantly hounded for interviews. But the worse thing about fame was how it damaged your ability to trust. Besides close friends and family, I didn't know who to trust anymore. I suspected everyone's motivations when they approached me,  _especially_ women.

I'd taken a huge risk with Bella. It could have easily turned out much differently than it had. But, from what I knew of her so far, I trusted her implicitly. She was exactly what she appeared to be: kind, honest, intelligent, loving, and funny. She was a giver, not a taker.

How could I even think of dragging her into that fishbowl with me? It would kill me to stand by and watch her be torn to pieces in the public's never-ending quest to know every little detail about Robert Pattinson's life. 

I smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Why the hell couldn't I have met her before all this shit started?

 


	15. Separation Sucks

**~ ROB ~**

_**(-Sunday, November 30, 2008-approximately 7:00 AM)** _

I fully expected to be cuddled up close to a warm, soft brunette when I woke up. I was disappointed to find only a cold empty sheet. A certain other part of my body was _extremely_ disappointed. Then I noticed the smells wafting up from downstairs. Morning sex was great—it probably topped the list of my all-time favorite things—but coming in a close second was the smell of bacon frying first thing in the morning.

I dug around in my duffle bag and pulled on a clean pair of jeans, made a quick pit stop by the bathroom, and then hurried down the stairs in search of the kitchen. It didn't take long for me to find it. I leaned against the doorway and watched Bella cook. She was standing at the stove with her back to me. Her hair was brushed smooth and pulled back into a loose ponytail. Bare feet and legs ended in a very short housecoat. I wondered what was underneath. I snuck up behind her and snaked my arms around her waist.

"Robert!" she yelped, laughing. "You scared me to death!"

I pulled her away from the stove and kissed the hell out of that beautiful smiling mouth. We swayed together playfully as I kissed her neck and she warned of popping grease. She finally was forced to push me away, complaining that the food was going to burn and it was going to be all my fault.  With an exaggerated sigh I plopped down at the table to watch her cook in silence. Finally, plates of food magically appeared before me; eggs, bacon, pancakes and toast. We sat across from each other and ate in comfortable silence. Well, not quite silence because I moaned… _a lot._ Actually, with every other bite. She smiled in response to my moans and my compliments on her cooking. I ate everything before me and proceeded to get my hand playfully slapped numerous times as I tried to steal bacon off of _her_ plate. But, there was an unpleasant subject I had to bring up, and I was dreading it. Reality was an unwelcome intruder between us once again.

"I have to leave by eleven today." I sighed. "I'm flying to Europe tomorrow for the overseas press junket for the movie, and I've got tons of stuff to do to get ready."

"Oh. I didn't know," she said quietly. Her eyes went from radiant to sad in an instant. "When will you get back?"

"I'll be gone through the tenth of December," I answered unhappily. Ten days. Ten fucking days without seeing her.

"Well," she started. "I guess you'd better get busy then." Her eyes were once again sparkling with mischief. I arched an eyebrow at her in silent question. "You don't have much time left to find out what's underneath this housecoat."

 "Give me a hint." 

"Something emerald green?" she teased seductively.

We made our way slowly out of the kitchen and up the stairs, stopping every other step to kiss. We stumbled once and were damned lucky we didn't fall and break our necks. The housecoat drifted to the floor at the top of the stairs and slid lazily down the steps unnoticed. Blue jeans fell to the floor in a heap just inside the bedroom door. A soft tangle of lace panties and silk shorts fell near the bed. The silk top never made it off of her body, but instead bunched softly under my fingers as I moved them slowly across her.

Our lovemaking was tender and quiet. We lingered over every kiss, every touch, and every softly whispered word. We took our pleasure slowly, savoring every moment our bodies came together. Our eyes met and held. I watched hers melt into warm chocolate as I moved inside of her, then glaze over with lust as the end neared. My body shivered in anticipation as she writhed underneath me, her hips moving in concert with mine. 

But along with the anticipation came a new emotion that I'd never experienced while having sex: sadness. I was discovering that pleasure and pain can exist in one body—in one _heart_ —at the same time. Every wave of desire moving through me was met with an equally strong wave of sadness. My body ached with the intense pleasures of sex while my heart ached with emptiness at our looming separation.

_Ten days without her…_

Our eyes finally broke contact as they fluttered shut in pleasure. Our orgasms were quiet and intense. Our bodies shuddered in unison as we dug our fingers into each other's skin. Soft, deep-throated moans filled the quiet room as we gave voice to the sensations riding us.

Long after it was over, we held each other tightly, our bodies still joined. We stared into each other's eyes and whispered our thoughts.

"I don't want to leave," I whispered as my lips brushed hers.

"I don't want you to leave either," she whispered back.

I steadied my body with one arm, while I stroked her face and hair with my other hand. My eyes bored into hers as I spoke my next words.  "I need you in my life," I said quietly and with conviction.

Her eyes welled with tears as she tried to blink them back. "I'm here."

"I don't know how to make this work," I said in anguish. "I'm going to be gone so much. I'm flying home to London for Christmas. New Moon starts pre-production in February, and who knows where I'll be come next summer. One person can't build something alone."

"Do you want it to work?" she asked, her eyes equally intense.

"Yes," I said without any hesitation whatsoever.

"Then we'll work it out." She smiled. "I know you'll be gone a lot and I understand that. It's your job."

"I wish you could come back to LA with me." Even as I said it I knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking.

She grew suddenly serious and reached up to stroke my cheek. "I don't think I could live that life, Robert. I don't see how you do it every day without losing your sanity."

"I wouldn't _want_ you to live it." I sighed. "The paparazzi would eat you alive. Your life would be turned upside down and ripped all to hell. It was just wishful thinking on my part. Besides, you need to finish school and go to college, not follow my ass around all over the country."

"I could follow that ass." She grinned and bit her lip. "It's a nice view."

I laughed softly. "It's skinny."

She giggled. "But yummy."

I ruffled her hair and laughed with her. "I don't know how I'm going to go ten days without seeing you. I barely made it two."

"Well, that's what a cell phone is for."

"I'll try to call you every chance I get, but you have no idea what it's going to be like for me." I sighed expansively. "Traveling to three countries in under ten days, countless interviews, constant screaming, endless after-parties, very little sleep, and no Bella."

"Just take it one day at a time, and know I'll be waiting when you get back," she said. "That's all we can do."

I sighed and rolled over onto my side of the bed. It was getting close to time to leave. While she was in the bathroom, I got dressed, gathered up my clothes and stuffed everything into my duffle bag, put my guitar back in its case and set everything by the bedroom door.  I stood in the middle of the beige rug with my hands in my pockets and watched her get dressed. I drank in the sight of her nude body, storing the images in my mind for those quiet times when I knew I'd miss her the most.

When she was dressed, she crossed the room and fell into my arms. She buried her face in my chest; I buried mine in her hair. We wrapped our arms around each other and held on tight. Neither one of us wanted to be the one to say it was time. Neither one of us wanted to let go. Bella finally pulled away and gazed up at me. Her eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Separation sucks," she whispered as she brushed away a tear before it could fall.

"That's not very poetic." I smiled sadly.

"No, but it's true," she said, sniffing.

I pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her deeply. When the kiss finally ended, I stroked her cheek tenderly.  "I wish there was somewhere I could take you where we could be together and you'd be safe from all the craziness in my life," I said softly.

She placed her hand on my chest and over my heart. Her warm brown eyes locked on mine. "You already have one. There's a secret place in your heart where I'll always be. No matter where you are, you can find me there. When you're missing me the most, open the door to your heart and I'll fill your mind, body and soul with love."

"Bella, that's beautiful." That didn't even begin to describe how her words affected me, but I didn't have a way with words like she did. I kissed her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips. I tasted salt as her tears ran into my mouth.

"Stop that," I murmured, wiping tears from her cheeks. "It's just ten days." _A fucking eternity._

"You're right. I'm being silly." She laughed and swiped at her face. "Ten days is nothing." She took a deep breath and pulled away from me. "Well, it's time to go," she said. She grabbed my guitar and duffle bag and took off down the stairs without a backward glance. I climbed out the back and met her by the car. She stashed my stuff in the backseat and we took off for the airport.

The ride was quiet. We held hands and exchanged glances when we could. Before we knew it, we were parked at the airfield staring out the windshield at the plane that was going to take me far away from her. We kissed one last time, and then I grabbed my stuff and walked reluctantly to the plane. As I stared out the window at her standing by her car, I felt an ache deep inside that was becoming too familiar. Only this time, the ache was accompanied by dread.

As the plane took off, and I lost sight of her face, I got an uneasy feeling that this was the last time I was ever going to see her. I had no explanation for it, but the feeling persisted the entire flight home.

As soon as I landed in LA and secured a cab, I called her, just to hear her voice. We talked about ordinary and unimportant things until I arrived back at my apartment. With a promise to call her tonight, I reluctantly ended the call and pushed the feelings of dread to the back of my mind. I had a lot to do before tomorrow. _Might as well get started._

I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening packing and taking care of the various details necessary when someone's going to be gone for ten days. I made a half-assed attempt at cleaning my apartment, but my heart just wasn't in it.

My agent called and we spent some time on the phone discussing Memoirs. Allen Coulter, the director, wanted to set up a meeting at his home as soon as I got back from Europe for an audition and possible screen test. A revised script would be waiting for me when I got back. That was the best news I'd heard in a while. I really wanted to do that film.

Kristen called about 8:00 and asked me to go with her to a club to hear this new band. I'd done everything I could do except pack my carry-on bag, so I decided 'what the hell.'  She sounded a little off on the phone, but when I asked her if she was all right she brushed me off. But that was typical of Kris. She'd tell me eventually. I'd just have to be patient.

An hour and a half later, I was sitting in a dark club drinking beer, smoking a cigarette and listening to the worst band I'd ever heard in my life. Kristen was quiet and subdued and sat with her back to me. She'd offered to come and pick me up and then proceeded to hardly speak five words to me in the car ride over. I wondered why she'd even bothered to invite me. It was obvious she didn't want company. I was pondering whether to get totally plastered or just ask Kristen to leave when Nikki pulled up a chair beside me.

"Hey, Nikki." I smiled and silently thanked God she was here. Maybe she could find out what was up with Kristen.

"We need to talk," she stated. I did a double take and realized Nikki was mad as hell, and it wasn't hard to figure out who she was mad at.

"About?" I asked, meeting her eyes.

"Where were you this weekend?" she asked angrily.

I wasn't sure I liked her tone so my asshole rose to the surface almost immediately and took control of the situation. "Out of town," I said shortly.

"I figured that out for myself. Out of town doing what?"

"Stuff," I replied. I finished off my beer and signaled for the waitress. It was time for us to leave. This had the potential to get ugly.

"Stuff," she sneered. She rose up out of her chair, knocking it over, and stormed out of the club, leaving me and Kristen staring after her open-mouthed with surprise.

Kristen sighed. "You'd better go see what's wrong."

I rushed out of the club and saw her stalking across the parking lot. _How in the hell can she walk that fast in those high heels?_ I yelled at her to wait on me and she finally stopped and turned to face me. "What's wrong with you?" I asked in as nice a voice as possible.

"What's wrong with me? I'll tell you what's wrong with me! You're a dickhead, Rob!" she yelled. "A. DICK. _HEAD!"_

So, was that supposed to be news to me?  "Just tell me what you're mad about," I said calmly. I didn't want her to get any angrier than she already was. She could kill somebody with that big-assed purse she was carrying.

"We had a date this weekend and you stood me up," she growled.

A date? What the fuck? "We did _not_ have a date."

"Yes we fucking did!" she said through gritted teeth.

"No, we fucking didn't!" I said loudly, finally losing my patience.

"Remember Thanksgiving Day, Rob? When I brought you the food? I said we should get together before you left and you said 'sure!'" she shouted.

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

We were suddenly interrupted as an out-of-breath Kristen ran up between us. "Guys, there's a paparazzo over by a car snapping pictures as fast as he can. You need to do this somewhere else besides in the middle of the parking lot." She pulled her keys out of her purse and dangled them between us. "Take my car and go somewhere and fight it out. Come back and get me in an hour."

Nikki snatched the keys from her hand and stalked off toward Kristen's car. I sighed, stuck my hands in my pockets and followed her. We sat in the car for a few minutes in silence. I looked around, searching for the paparazzo, but he appeared to have left.

"We didn't have a date," I said quietly. "If we would have had a date, I wouldn't have left for the weekend. You know that. I wouldn't do you that way."

"Who were you with?"

She just wasn't going to let it go. "Nikki, I'm sorry. I obviously misunderstood, or I just wasn't listening to you." _Or you heard what you wanted to hear._

"Rob," she choked. I looked over at her and was surprised to see her eyes glistening with tears. Shit.

Then before I knew what was happening she'd climbed over the gearshift and was straddling my lap. Her mouth found mine and she pressed her entire body weight down on me, making it almost impossible for me to get her off me without hurting her.

"Nikki," I gasped in between kisses. She must have thought I'd spoken her name with lust because her hand snaked down between us and she started kneading my dick. "Nikki," I groaned. "Stop." I pushed her away, but her tongue found its way into my mouth. She pulled the cap off my head and gripped my hair in her fist. Oh, fuck. She knew just how to push my buttons.

"You want this, Rob," she breathed. "You're so fucking hard."

She was right. I wanted this, just not with _her_. The girl I wanted was hundreds of miles away. Just the thought of Bella was enough to bring me to my senses. I roughly pushed Nikki away and pulled her hand off me. I shifted my body just enough to send her a clear message: Get the fuck off of me.

She fell back over into her seat and got herself together before turning her fury on me.  "You treat me like a whore!" she screamed.

Then I did something I rarely ever did: I lost my temper. "You treat _yourself_ like a whore!" I snapped back at her viciously. I immediately wished I could take the words back, but it was too late as I saw her hand move in a blinding flash. The sting of the slap shocked me into silence.

"You're an asshole," she snarled. She got out of the car and slammed the door with bone-shattering force. I listened, with my head in my hands, to the angry click of her heels on the pavement as she stalked away.

I texted Kristen and let her know I was ready to leave whenever she was. As I was waiting, I wondered what in the hell I was going to do. Nikki and I were just friends, but the fight we'd just had hadn't felt like a fight between friends. It had felt like a fight between lovers. Shit.

Finally, Kristen arrived, yanking open the car door with as much force as Nikki had used shutting it.  Seemed we were all having a bad night. And to think my day had started off so well.

"Are you all right?" I asked hesitantly.

She just stared straight ahead as she pulled out of the lot. "Fuck my life," she muttered.

 _Ditto,_ I thought.

The ride back to my apartment was even quieter than the ride over. Kristen was preoccupied with whatever was fucking up her life, and I'd bet anything it had something to do with Michael. And I was preoccupied with the mess that had become my love life. She dropped me at my front door and sped off without a word. What a lovely evening this had been.

I let myself in and headed for the bedroom. I stripped off down to my boxers and flopped down on the bed. It was almost midnight. I could only hope that Bella was still up. I hated like hell to wake her, but after this evening's drama, I needed to hear her calming voice.  She answered after the second ring, as always.

_"Robert?"_

"Can you talk?"

_"Of course."_

Turned out she was lying sleepless in bed listening to my iPod. I curled up under the sheets, put my cell on speaker and laid it on the pillow beside me. We talked softly to each other into the night about anything that popped into our heads. Around 3 AM she fell quiet on the other end long enough to make me think she'd fallen asleep.

"Bella?" I asked. I said her name several times until she finally roused.

_"Ummm…I'm sorry. I drifted off."_

"I'm going to let you go. I have to get some sleep." I was due to fly out tomorrow evening, but still had a full day of work ahead of me before I left.

_"Okay. Goodnight Robert."_

Her voice was sleepy and soft, and drifting away with each passing second.

"I love you, Bella," I whispered.

I waited for a response, a reaction, anything, but there was only silence on the other end. I sighed and ended the call. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if she'd heard me, and if she had, why hadn't she answered?

 

**ME AND NIKKI FIGHTING IN THE CLUB PARKING LOT. DAMNED PAPARAZZO!**

 


	16. London: The Premiere

**Prologue:**

Looking back on those days in Europe, I can see with crystal clarity how it happened, but as far as seeing it coming beforehand? I had no clue. No warning. No time to prepare.

I could take the coward's way out and blame it on the chaos of the press junket—the premiers, the after-parties, the alcohol, lack of sleep, or any number of other things. Or, I could acknowledge that what happened was my fault. I was stupid. I didn't ask enough questions. I trusted.

But, in actuality, I just fucked up. Plain and simple.

 

\--------------------------------------------

_**(-Monday, December 1, 2008-)** _

I spent the day at Summit studios with Catherine and Kristen in meetings about the DVD release. The serious work was scheduled to start when we returned from Europe. For now, we were mostly finalizing a schedule. All in all, it was a boring day.

I took care of a few last minute errands and picked up my dry cleaning before finally arriving home at 5:00 pm. Cathy had called to let me know a car was coming to take me to the airport at around 7:00. I spent the remaining time at my apartment packing my carry-on bag and throwing some last minute items into my suitcases.

Around 6:30, I finally had some time to make a phone call to Bella. She answered on the second ring, as usual. We talked about my flight— when I was leaving, and when I'd arrive in London. We both said how much we missed each other already, and I hadn't even left yet. In the middle of our conversation, the doorbell rang. It was Cathy with the car.  I went into the bedroom for a little privacy while the driver gathered up my suitcases.

"Bella, last night, before we hung up, I said something important to you. Did you hear it?" I asked softly. She was silent on the other end for a long time. "Bella?"

_"I thought I dreamed it."_

"No. You didn't dream it," I said quietly. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

_"Oh, Robert. I'm not falling. I'm already there. I loved you long before I met you."_

I didn't know what to say to that. I didn't even know how that was possible.

"Rob! We have to leave!" Cathy yelled from the living room.

"I have to go," I said with frustration. "I'll call you when I can."

_"Have a safe trip. Remember, I'm here."_

We said our hurried goodbyes and I was hustled out the door by an impatient Cathy. Just as I was getting in the car, my cell vibrated. It was Nikki. _Great. Just what I need right now._ I ignored her call, hoping she'd get the hint. No such luck. She kept calling over and over again. I sighed out of sheer frustration. I had no choice but to take it or turn off my phone. I glanced over at Cathy. She seemed to be absorbed in a stack of papers from her briefcase.

"Hello?" I said quietly, with my face turned away from Cathy and towards the window.

_"Is this a bad time?"_

"I'm in a car on the way to the airport. I can't talk long."

 _"I wanted to talk to you before you left, but I couldn't get away in time to come over."_ Then there was a long silence during which I sat with my eyes closed tightly, cringing as I waited for whatever was coming next.   _"I wanted to apologize for hitting you. I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry."_

Well, that was not what I was expecting. "It's all right." I sighed. "I sort of asked for it. I shouldn't have said what I said, but I lost my temper. I'm sorry about that, too."

_"What's going on with us, Rob?"_

Shit. This was not a conversation I wanted to have at that particular moment. "There isn't any 'us'. I thought we both understood what this is. It's not a relationship," I said in a low voice.

Another long silence. _"Are you involved with someone else?"_

"Nikki, it's none of your business who I'm involved with," I hissed in a soft voice. Unfortunately, it was not soft enough. Cathy glanced my way in surprise. Damn. "I have to go. We're pulling into the airport. We'll talk about this when I get back, all right?"

_"You can count on it."_

I disconnected without even saying goodbye. I stared out the window of the car and waited for the explosion I knew was coming.

"Holy Mary, mother of God!" Cathy exclaimed. "You and Nikki? Are you crazy?? Why am I always the last to find out these things?"

"Maybe because it's none of your business?" I ventured, still looking out the window at nothing.

"Jesus, Rob. What were you thinking?" she said, laughing.

"Obviously, I _wasn't_ thinking," I mumbled.

"Oh, you were thinking all right, just not with your brain." She laughed softly. "So, I take it there's trouble in paradise?"

"Do you stick your nose in all your clients' business like this?" 

"No," she snickered. "Just yours. Your life is so much more interesting than anyone else's. Let me guess. Nikki is suspicious about your secret girlfriend. Am I right?"

I started chewing on a fingernail as I stared silently out the window.

"Rob, honey, I hope you have an extra set of balls stashed somewhere, because when Nikki finds out about your mystery girl, she's going to rip yours off." Then she laughed her ass off at me.

I shot a disgusted look her way. "Gee, thanks so much for that uplifting thought, _and_ for your concern."

"Are you seeing her, the mystery girl? I mean, is it serious?" All of the humor was gone from her voice. There were not many people I'd trust with this information, but Cathy was one of them.

"Yes. I'm seeing her. And yes, it's serious," I admitted, meeting Cathy's gaze head on. "Please keep this between me and you. I don't want her to be a part of all of this. She couldn't handle having photographers following her around and digging into her life."

"Are you sure you should even be involved with someone who can't be part of your life in every way?" she asked softly. "How can you keep those two lives separate?"

That was the million dollar question, and one I didn't have an answer to. We rode in silence for awhile before Cathy suddenly turned and looked me dead in the eyes. "Nikki is a tigress, Rob. Once she gets her claws into you, it's going to be hard to shake her loose without losing some skin and a lot of blood in the process."

Shit. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. How the hell had my life gotten so complicated?

We pulled into the airport and stopped in an unloading zone. I jumped out of the car as fast as I could and went around to the trunk to get my carry-on. Of course, Cathy was dogging my heels.

"Oh, and by the way. There's been a change of plans. Kristen's flight was delayed, so we bumped her onto your flight. She's in your empty seat." Then she smiled sweetly. "And Dave's on your flight, too."

Great. That was just fucking great. Eleven hours with Dave the Prick. I put on my sunglasses, pulled on my cap and walked off without comment. I prayed that Kristen was in a better mood than she was last night or this was going to be the longest flight of my life.

I found my seat on the plane without too much trouble. All I had to do was search for Kristen. She had her earbuds in and was pretty much oblivious to everything around her. I was thankful to see that The Prick was sitting half a plane away from both of us. I stashed my carry-on in the overhead compartment, and squeezed by her legs to my window seat. We exchanged smiles and mumbled hellos and that was pretty much it for the first hour of the flight.

Somewhere along the line, she pulled her earbuds out and turned in her seat until she was facing me. "Nikki is pretty pissed at you. I talked to her last night, and she's convinced that you spent the weekend with someone when you two had a date."

"We did _not_  have a date!" I exclaimed, a little too loudly. I lowered my voice and continued. "We've talked about this, Kris. It's all settled. It was just a misunderstanding."

Kristen stared at me steadily, her green eyes felt like they were boring holes in my head. "You need to do something, Rob. I think Nikki is in danger of breaking fuck buddy rule number one," she said quietly.

I stared back at her in complete shock. No way. There was no fucking way Nikki was in love with me. I groaned and then dug out my iPod. I stuck my earbuds in my ears, laid my seat back, put my jacket over my face and shut my eyes to the world. As my mother used to say, 'When all else fails, go to sleep. It'll all be better when you wake up'. I hoped like hell she was right.

'God, please don't let her be in love with me' was the last coherent thought I had before I drifted off to sleep.

 

 -------------------------------------------

_**(-Tuesday, December 2, 2008-)** _

We arrived at Heathrow about 9:00 A.M. London time. We were whisked hurriedly out of the airport into waiting cars. We spent the morning getting settled into our hotel suites and unpacking. Kristen and I were in adjoining rooms, which made getting together much less of a hassle. The last thing either of us wanted was to be photographed out in the hallway while on the way to each other's rooms.

Cathy had arranged for me and my parents to have lunch in a private dining room in the hotel. I invited Kristen to come along, but she declined and retreated to the seclusion of her rooms. Something was still off with her. I had tried to coax it out of her on the plane, but had gotten nowhere.

The rest of the afternoon was taken up by interviews and a working dinner with all the Summit staff in the hotel's private dining rooms. It was an effort just to keep my eyes open, let alone make small talk and pretend I was having a good time, plus take in all the details I needed to know for tomorrow. I glanced over at Kristen. Her eyes were heavy, and she had that same spaced-out distracted look that she'd had a lot lately.

Thankfully, the dinner wrapped up sooner than I'd expected. It was a good thing, because jet lag was catching up with all of us. Kristen and I exchanged lackluster goodnights in the elevator. I forced myself to brush my teeth, but that was as far as I got in the hygiene department. My clothes barely made it off my body before I collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion.

 

 --------------------------------------------

_**(-Wednesday, December 3, 2008-)** _

We did a magazine and a telephone interview in the morning, and around 1:00 pm Kristen, Catherine, and I had a private lunch together in Catherine's suite. Catherine was her normal bubbly self, taking the conversation in a thousand different directions at once. Thankfully, she never noticed Kristen's lack of enthusiasm. But I did. Kris was strangely subdued. She smiled at all the right times and made comments at the appropriate places, but I could tell she would have rather been someplace else.

We had the rest of the afternoon to ourselves to relax and get ready for the premier. In the elevator, I invited Kristen to my suite to hang out for awhile, but she turned me down… _again._

"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.

She nodded her head. "Yeah. I'm just really tired. I'll catch you later." Then she veered off to her door and closed it behind her without another word.

I let myself into my room and debated calling Bella. But, since it was only 6:00 am in Vancouver I decided against it. I'd have plenty of time to call her tonight, after the premier was over.

As the afternoon wore on and turned into evening, I became more and more jittery. I showered, washed and dried the stupid hair and fooled with it for about one minute tops, then I got dressed. Everyone was instructed to wear black and white, so I chose a basic black suit, black tie and white shirt.

I realized I was pacing the room in nervousness, so I forced myself to stop and breathe. I felt the beginnings of a panic attack stirring, but I fought it down. _You've already done this before. You know what to expect. It's only a few hours and then it will be over. You can make it through anything for a few hours. This is my home, I'm comfortable here._ I kept telling myself these things over and over in my head until I began to feel calmer. By the time we were due to leave, I almost felt normal and confident that I could get through the evening and come out the other end in one piece.

Kristen, Cathy, Dave (aka The Prick), Catherine and I met up in the hallway and took the elevator down together. Kristen was absolutely stunning in the black dress she'd chosen. Of course, she always looked attractive no matter what she wore, but tonight she was especially beautiful.  We exchanged small smiles in the corner of the elevator. I bent down and whispered softly in her ear. "You look amazing tonight."

She blushed and then whispered just as softly, "Back at ya."

The premier went smoothly, at least for me. The chaos, the screaming, the constant camera flashes, the endless succession of interviews, none of it bothered me like it did before. Maybe it had to do with the fact that this was my home. I'd stood in this square and witnessed many a premiere through the years, although none of them had ever reached these mammoth proportions. When all was said and done, I actually felt more comfortable tonight than I had in ages.

I wished I could have said the same for Kristen. Like during lunch, she smiled brilliantly at the cameras, gave the perfunctory interviews, signed the occasional autographs, and made polite conversation with strangers, giving the appearance that everything was normal. But when she was by my side, when my arm was around her waist and she was standing right next to me, I could feel the tension in her body.  During a lull in the photo call, I bent down and murmured into her ear to relax, but it didn't help.

Finally, the premiere ended, and the after-parties began. We made appearances at a couple, but didn't stay long at either one—just long enough for me to knock down a cocktail or two to take the edge off the exhaustion. Kristen refused all drinks and stuck close by my side the entire time.

Around midnight, we were finally able to break away from the parties and head back to the hotel. I was eager to get these clothes off, maybe call Bella, and hit the bed with a vengeance. Kristen left the elevator and mumbled a soft goodnight and then disappeared into her room. I stared silently after her, wondering once again what was up with her.

After the crowds and screaming of the premiere, the quiet darkness of my hotel suite was like heaven to me. I pried off my shoes, took off my tie and jacket and tossed them on a chair, then collapsed on the sofa in exhaustion. I laid my head back, closed my eyes and thought about calling Bella. I was just getting ready to dig my cell phone out of my pants pocket, when it vibrated. It was a text from Kristen, asking if she could see me. I texted her back and told her to come on over, and that she could come through the adjoining door. It was always unlocked.

Almost immediately, she walked quietly into the room and straight over to the window. She stood silently, looking out over the city with her back to me. She was still wearing the black dress and shoes from the premier.

"God, my feet hurt," I moaned, hoping to jump start the conversation. With those heels she had on, I knew her feet had to hurt as much as mine did. "How do you stand those shoes? It must be like walking on two nails," I commented, chuckling. I expected a laugh, but she was strangely silent. "Kris?" I asked. "Are you all right?" Then I noticed her body was trembling. I sat up in alarm. "Kris, what's wrong?"

She turned to face me and a sob escaped her lips. Her hand shook as she closed it over her mouth.

"Kris," I gasped. Then I spanned the distance between us in a matter of seconds, and gathered her in my arms. She buried her face in my chest and completely fell apart. Deep sobs racked her body as I held her. Her fingers clutched my shirt, the cloth wadded up in her hands. I pulled her in even closer and held onto her as tightly as I could. I stroked her hair and talked softly to her, murmuring anything comforting that came to mind. Finally she quieted enough that I thought she might be able to talk. I pulled her away from me, and stroked her hair. "What's wrong? Tell me."

"I don't know how much more of this I can take." She was snubbing deeply and hardly able to talk. "I'm so fucking miserable. I'm so sick and tired of the interviews, the appearances, the paparazzi, just everything. I have no fucking life anymore!"

I guided her to a nearby chair, and then pulled the coffee table over so that I could use it to sit on. I sat facing her, her knees were between mine. "I understand. Believe me, I do. It's hard, but you have to know this isn't going to last. This is just a flash in the pan. After awhile, things will settle down and we can both get back to our normal lives," I explained quietly, holding her eyes. "This is all just temporary."

She sniffed, snubbed, and wiped the tears from her face, her mouth trembling with emotion. "Sometimes, I just want to go out and walk around like a normal person, you know?  We're in London, for fuck's sake! I've never been to London, and here I am stuck in a hotel room!" She grabbed my hands and squeezed them in hers. "I'd love for us—you and me—to be able to just go out and walk around in London. Poke around in the shops, eat bad food, see the sights, take pictures like stupid tourists," she said, still snubbing.

"I know. I wish the same thing. I'd love to show you around my hometown and do the tourist thing, but this is work, Kris." Then I tugged on her chin with my fingers until her eyes met mine. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. You can do this."

"I'm so fucking sick of being strong!" she yelled. Then she dropped her head into her hands and moaned in frustration. "I wish I could handle all of this as easily as you do."

I laughed harshly. "Easily? I was a wreck at the premiere in Brentwood." She looked up at me in astonishment. "I had a panic attack that night. I left the parties early, went home and puked my guts out. Then I spent I don't know how long curled up in a ball on my bathroom floor just trying to breathe and stop shaking."

"Why didn't you call me? I would have come."

I shrugged. "It's just me. I'm not comfortable with crowds, never have been. I'm learning to deal with it, and it's getting better, actually. I didn't have one tonight."

She sighed and silently shook her head. "We didn't ask for this. People just don't know how hard it is. One of my friends said I should count myself lucky. I've got money, fame, job offers out the ass. But she hasn't walked a mile in my shoes. She doesn't know."

"No, she doesn't. Nobody does but us." I sighed. "I'm here for you, Kris. We'll get through the next six days together, then we'll have a nice long Christmas break and we'll be done with Twilight, at least for a little while." I smiled crookedly. "It's going to be all right, I promise."

Neither one of us said anything for a few moments. Then, unexpectedly, she brushed her hand lightly down the side of my face.  "You are such a good man," she whispered. She ran her finger lightly across my lips. I should have pulled away, but I didn't, I couldn't. I didn't want her to stop. So I just sat there and did nothing, and let her stroke my face and mouth. My eyes were fixed on hers as her fingers brushed across my skin. Then she kissed me. A soft, lingering kiss. Tender and warm. She pulled away and our eyes met. "I want you, Rob," she whispered.

As soon as I heard those four words, my conscience deserted me. I'd waited so long to hear them. The only thing I cared about at that moment was this beautiful girl that I had wanted since I'd first met her. Nothing or no one else mattered except the two of us in this dark hotel room. I snaked my fingers into her hair and roughly pulled her mouth back to mine. The sound of our kissing filled the quiet room. Then, I stood and pulled her up to me. I wanted to feel her body against mine. Our hands roamed over each other as we clung together. We quickly peeled our clothes off and let them drop in a pile at our feet. I led her into the bedroom and pulled her onto the bed with me. I slipped off each of her shoes and tossed them on the floor.

She reached for me, and in that instant all the wanting of the past months, the casual touching, the flirting, the brush of her breast against my arm, the feel of her leg against mine under a table, the low hum of electricity that was always present between us, and Portland...all of it came together in an intense rush of passion that had me wondering why in the hell I'd waited so long.

We explored each other's bodies until we couldn't stand the waiting any longer. She begged me in soft urgent whispers to make love to her. When our bodies met it was with a hard and relentless rhythm. Neither one of us could have slowed it down even if we had wanted to. This need had been building since the first moment we'd met, and there was no stopping it tonight.

I watched every expression that moved across her face. Jolts of lust raced through my body with every sexy sound that came from her throat. Our hard, steady rhythm continued unabated, and I began to wonder, as I felt the pressure building, just how long I could keep it going. She clawed her fingers down my sweat-slicked back and moaned for me to go harder and faster.  With a deep-throated groan, I gave her what she wanted, what we _both_ wanted. I pounded her body relentlessly.

I closed my eyes and dropped my head. "Oh God, I can't hold it," I gasped hoarsely. As soon as the words left my mouth, we both came together, powerful orgasms that shook us both to the core. Our breathless groans filled the room.  We finally collapsed together in satisfied exhaustion. Our hearts thundered in unison, our chests heaved as we fought to regain normal breathing. Hoarse groans turned into soft moans and then finally into whispering sighs.  I rolled off of her and sprawled across my side of the bed. Her breathing was still heavy. Her eyes were shut and there was a satisfied smile on her face.

"Now _that's_ what I'm talking about!" she exclaimed, laughing breathlessly. "Fuck Rob, that was incredible!"

I was too limp and relaxed to do anything but chuckle in return. We lay side by side and waited, with eyes closed, for our bodies to return to some semblance of normal.

Minutes later, she rolled over against me. Her green eyes were clear of tears and sparkled with happiness. "Why did we wait so long to do that?" she asked softly, with a smile.

 _Let's see, oh yeah, I remember: Michael._ But did I bother to ask where their relationship stood? No. I took the coward's way out—I didn't want to know. So I remained silent and kept my thoughts to myself. Then she laid her head down on my chest and spent the next several minutes running her fingers lightly up and down my body.

"Kris," I said softly. She never moved. "Kris, look at me." She propped her chin on my chest and met my eyes. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

"I am now," she whispered. Then she smiled and kissed me softly, and that was where we left it.

She laid her head back down on my chest and tucked her body up under my arm. I twined her hair idly through my fingers as her body gradually relaxed against mine. Within minutes, sleep overtook her. As I lay still in the darkness with her warm body cuddled up against me, my conscience came rushing back with a vengeance, and brought with it a bone-crushing load of guilt.

Bella. I'd never once thought of her as I'd made love to Kristen. Not once. Nikki was right. I was an asshole, and a dickhead, and every other foul name that you could come up with.  I'd told Bella that I loved her, and then two days later I'd cheated on her. What the hell was I going to do now?

I looked down at Kristen and remembered her earlier tears, her body shaking with them, the anguish I'd heard in her voice. If I could help her get over this rough spot, I'd gladly be there for her whenever she needed me, but I hadn't expected the sex. She'd completely blindsided me with that.  I realized, at that very moment, that I loved Kristen. I'd started falling in love with her from the very first day I'd met her. But I loved Bella, too. I wanted them both, but I could only have one.

I spent half the night going over it and over it in my head, while Kristen slept peacefully unaware in my arms. I enjoyed being with both of them, but for very different reasons. Bella made me feel comfortable and at peace with my life. Being with Kristen was like being on an intense rollercoaster ride, an adrenaline rush for the emotions.  I already knew so much about Kristen, but felt there was much more below the surface to be discovered. And there was definitely so much more to learn about Bella.  I admired Kristen's drive and her intense focus in everything she did. I was so in awe of her talent and quite often felt like an amateur in her presence. Bella was a diamond in the rough, her talent lying dormant and waiting to be discovered. I could only imagine what she'd aspire to in her life if given the right opportunities.

But the one sticking point that I always came back to was this: Which one could survive, and maybe even be happy, swimming around in this fucked-up fishbowl with me? Bella had made it clear that she didn't think she could live a life like this, a life under constant scrutiny by the public. Kristen already knew what it was like. She'd lived and breathed it every single day since this shit had started.  Tonight though, I'd seen a side of her that had touched me deeply, a vulnerable side. And she'd reached out to me for comfort. Kristen needed me.

I glanced over at the bedside clock. 3:00 AM. I stared back sightlessly at the ceiling. I swallowed back the pain before it came. I took a mental deep breath and slammed shut the door to that secret place in my heart. At 3:00 AM London time, in a dark hotel room, with Kristen lying in my arms, I made my decision.

I said my goodbyes to Bella.

  
**INTERESTING QUOTE:**

“I think we all have the right to fall in love several times. I think you can love ten people at the same time.”  
\--Robert Pattinson  
Source: Times of the Internet

**ME AT HEATHROW**

**WHY DIDN'T SOMEBODY TELL ME MY HAIR WAS MESSED UP?! (Not that I give a shit.)**

**ME AND KRIS - LONDON PREMIER AT LEICESTER SQUARE**

**MY FAVORITE PICTURE OF KRIS AND ME AT THE LONDON PREMIERE**

 

 


	17. London: The Day After

**~ ROB ~**

_**(-Thursday, December 4, 2008-)** _

_Someone answer the damned phone!_ I screamed silently in my head. The loud, shrill ringing had jerked me suddenly out of a deep sleep. I lay still and tried to calm the pounding in my chest and prayed for some damned body to just stop the noise. I groaned and sleepily buried my face deeper into the pillow and tried to ignore it.

A soft moan came from the pile of brown hair beside me. Kristen. Memories of last night came flooding back at the sight of her in my bed. I watched with one eye barely open, as her hand groped around on the nightstand searching for the phone. She finally found it and stopped its incessant ringing.

"H'lo," she murmured sleepily into the receiver. She listened to whoever was on the other end for a few moments, and then replaced the handset. She turned over to face me. Her green eyes were still full of sleep and her hair was all over the place, but she was still beautiful.

"That was Cathy," she murmured. "The car will be out front in twenty minutes." Then she buried her face back in the pillows with a groan.

Twenty minutes? I shot up and looked at the bedside clock. 6:10 fucking A.M.  "Shit! Shit! _Shit!"_ I cursed as I disentangled myself from the sheet and Kristen's legs.

"What?" she asked grumpily. She had turned over at my outburst and was struggling to get herself awake.

"I've got that interview on GMTV this morning. Shit!"

I raced around the room grabbing socks, underwear and clothes as I headed toward the bathroom. I stopped and gave myself a mental slap to the head. I didn't have time for a fucking shower. Shit! I frantically washed my face, shaved, slathered on some deodorant, pulled on the clothes, and brushed my teeth. And last but not least, the stupid hair. I didn't have time to do anything with it, so I just mussed it around a bit and left it at that.

I dug some shoes out of a duffle bag and hurriedly tied them on. I leaned over the bed and gave Kris a quick kiss on the forehead and rifled her hair into a huge tangled mess.

"Hey! Stop it!" she complained, and then laughed. "I have an interview too, but it's not until mid morning. I don't have to get up for another hour."

"Sure, rub it in," I grumbled.

"I'll see you at lunch," she said with a sleepy smile. "We can compare notes on how badly we fucked up our interviews."

I laughed and grabbed a jacket, heading out the door with five whole minutes to spare. Cathy was waiting for me in the lobby, quietly talking with a security guard. She brightened upon first seeing me, and then her expression dissolved into a frown as I approached.

I was hustled out to the car amid a chorus of screams. Damn, didn't these girls ever sleep? Didn't they have to go to school? Or to work? I stopped and signed a few autographs and shook a few hands and then was practically pulled into the car by Cathy. Once inside, I laid my head back on the seat and closed my eyes.

"We're back to the 'rode hard and put up wet' look again, I see," Cathy said with an exaggerated sigh. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Two and half hours…I think."

"I don't suppose it had anything to do with who answered your phone at six in the morning sounding like she'd just woken up?"

I ignored Cathy's remark, kept my eyes closed and pushed everything else out of my head. I was counting on the early morning traffic congestion that was normal for London giving me enough time to catch a power nap before the interview.

We arrived at the studio just in time for the makeup department to work their magic. I stole a glance in the mirror just before I went out onto the set and was surprised at how put-together I looked. Considering that I had spent half the night wrestling with my conscience instead of sleeping, I looked fairly presentable—exhausted, but presentable.

The interview was the standard ordinary fare: no interesting questions, only the same ones I'd answered a hundred times before. I was a little shocked at how quickly and easily the lie came out of my mouth when asked if I had a girlfriend. I'd denied it with an innocent smile and wondered what the world would think if they knew what a lying bastard I really was. Not only did I have a girlfriend, I had three.! Well, two and a half. I wasn't really sure that Nikki counted.  Last night I'd made the decision to let one of them go. So, why did I have to keep forcing myself not to think of Bella? Why was she constantly snaking her way into my thoughts when I'd spent half the night pushing her out?

I did another couple of small interviews for some magazines. They both readily agreed to use old shots of me instead of shooting something new that day. I guess they didn't want the exhausted, strung out look for their next issue, which was fine with me. I was too tired to fool with all the clothing fittings, hair styling and makeup sessions that went with a photo shoot.

By mid-day, Cathy and I were back in the car and making our way slowly through the congested streets to the hotel. I planned on having a nice quiet lunch in my suite… _alone_ …with Kristen.

"Rob?"

I glanced over at Cathy, who had turned her body in the seat until she was completely facing me.  "What?" I sighed. From the look on her face I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I gave her my innocent confused look.

"Don't look at me all innocent," she retorted. "You and Kristen obviously spent the night together. There's no other reason she'd be answering your phone at six in the morning."

"I really don't mean to be rude, but that's none of your business," I snapped.

"Sorry," she said, smiling sadly. "But the minute you and Kristen got intimately involved it became my business." Before I could object, she continued. "You probably aren't aware of this, but it's time that somebody enlightened you. Your love life is of great interest to a lot of people: the public, of course, but especially the PR department and the higher-ups at Summit.  And there are two different camps. The first one—and it includes me, by the way—feels that we need to give the _appearance_ that there's something going on between you two, to push the on-screen chemistry as far as we can in the media, to get the public thinking there might be a real life romance on the horizon, even if there isn't. The mystery of it all would keep the fans interested in you two and push Twilight even further into the black."

I felt an anger slowly building deep inside me as I realized where she was going with all of this. The heat of my temper crept up my neck and into my face.

"But, the other camp—and that includes Dave and a lot of others—would love for you and Kristen to get together. Believe me, if they knew what I know right now, that you and Kristen have spent the night together, they'd be jacking off with one hand and calling every media outlet in the country with the other and cuming dollar signs. It would be the mother of all orgasms to them. They think a Rob/Kristen love affair would make Twilight's profits shoot through the roof."

That's when my temper exploded. "To hell with them! There is NO fucking way I'm exposing my private life to any fucking reporters! I don't care who I'm with, whether it's Kristen or anyone else! That's my god damned business and nobody else's! Damn it Cathy, my private life is all I have left that belongs to me!"

I dropped my head in my hands and concentrated on breathing and calming myself down.

"I understand completely," she said softly. "But this is business for them. They don't care about your feelings, hon. It's all about the money."

"Have you talked to Kristen about this?" I asked, finally meeting her eyes.

"She knows. She's been in this business a lot longer than you. She knows the deal."

But she still came to me, even knowing what the consequences could be for both of us.

"Rob, you two have to be very careful now when you're in public. You're just lucky that Dave wasn't the one to call you this morning, or else he'd be running to his bosses right now as fast as those short little legs of his could carry him. We public relation people are observant. We notice things that others don't and we use those observations to our advantage. From now on, you're going to have to watch everything you do, especially the flirting, the eye contact and just your entire body language when you're together."

I was so filled with anger inside at this twisted and perverted mess that my life had become. I couldn't even express my feelings for someone I loved publicly. If I was to have any peace, I had to hide it, like it was something to be ashamed of. I stared out the car window at nothing, and wondered when God had turned the universe upside down without telling me.

"Rob, a bit of advice," she said quietly. "As a woman."

I sighed aloud and ran my fingers through my hair. I could almost predict what was coming and I didn't want to hear it.

"The way I see it, you're playing in three women's beds and messing around with their hearts. When the chickens finally come home to roost, someone's going to get hurt, and I'm afraid it's going to be _you,_ " she said, her voice softening.

Like I didn't already know that? My life was a fucked up mess and I only had myself to blame.

Back at the hotel, I ducked into my room and changed clothes. We had the rest of the afternoon to ourselves until this evening, when we were expected to attend some party somewhere. I never really bothered myself with the details. I just went wherever they told me to go and did whatever they told me to do. I smiled, shook hands, signed autographs and let people scream at me. That was my job now.

Kristen called to tell me her interview had run a little late, plus she was stuck in traffic. She'd get there as soon as she could. I offered to order room service for us and she said that would be fine. Thirty minutes later she came rushing through the connecting door, tossed her purse on a nearby chair and collapsed on the sofa. She ran her hands through her hair and growled in frustration.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just really need some down time," she said, sighing.

The food arrived a few moments later. We ate in silence for awhile. Her eyes swept briefly over mine several times, and then she quickly looked down, as if embarrassed. Surely she wasn't uncomfortable with me? I smiled reassuringly at her, and got a half-hearted smile in return.

Finally she put her fork down and sighed. "Rob, about last night," she started, and then hesitated before going on. "I'm really sorry I fell apart on you like that. I didn't mean to dump all my shit in your lap."

"It's all right," I murmured.

"It's just that, my life has really sucked lately and it seemed like everything was piling up on me at the same time. It just all came to a head last night. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time," she said with an apologetic smile.

"I wouldn't put it that way," I corrected her. "You needed somebody last night and I'm just glad I was there. You'd do the same for me."

Her eyes softened. She reached across the table and held my hand in hers. "About the other," she said quietly. "I didn't plan that. I swear, I didn't come to your room for that."

"I know," I answered. We both fell silent for a few moments, neither one of us sure what else to say. Finally, I got up the courage to broach the subject head on. "You do know there's a marketing strategy in place for what happened last night."

"Yeah." She sighed, without meeting my eyes. "That is soooo fucked up."

"So, I guess the big question is, should we do this?" I asked quietly. I waited, with her hand still folded in mine, while she thought about it.

"I've wanted this for so long," she said. Then she finally raised her eyes to mine to gauge my reaction.

"So have I," I answered. Everything else that needed to be said I saw in her eyes and she saw in mine.

I scooted my chair over until it was facing hers. Her eyes followed me and warmed when I pushed her hair back from her face. The kiss was gentle and lingering. But just a touch of our tongues had us both moaning softly and deepening the kiss. But, before things went too far, I needed to know one last thing.

"Michael…" I started. But as soon as the word left my mouth, she laid her fingers over my lips.

"No," she whispered as she shook her head slightly. "In this room, there's no Michael, no Nikki, or anyone else. There's just us." Then she kissed away any response I might have had. The questions I should have asked were left unspoken as her hands roamed over my body.

Our lovemaking that afternoon was slow and tender. All of the urgency of last night was gone. We took our time exploring and savoring all the things about each other that had been a mystery up until now. I'd expected Kris to be an intense and focused lover, much like she was when she worked. Instead, she was giving, unselfish, soft and passionate. There was a sense of vulnerability about her that I'd never seen before. I was still astonished that this beautiful self-assured woman could even want someone like me, but with every kiss, every touch, and with every inch of her body she showed me that she did. And even though we both knew there would be consequences to our actions, we couldn't seem to stop ourselves. We'd put this off for far too long. Afterwards, we held each other quietly, occasionally stroking a finger down skin, or kissing softly.

"I love the way you make me feel when we're together," she said as her eyes held mine.

"So do I."

Then a mischievous smile slowly crept over her face and she laughed softly.

"What?" I asked quizzically.

"Dude, you look terrible. You really need some sleep. How about you rest for awhile and I'll wake you in time to get ready for this stupid party."

"Deal." I was going on two and half hours of sleep and my body had just about reached its limits.

She snuggled underneath my arm and got comfortable. I closed my eyes and drifted off to the feel of her fingertips lightly rubbing across my stomach.

\------------------------------------------------

The party was like every other party I'd been to since this stuff started: loud music, lots of people in a small space, and an unending flow of alcohol. Kris looked beautiful, as always. I knew she had to be tired, but she was one of those people who looked good even when they were at their worst. Me? I was walking around on 4-1/2 hours of sleep now and I still looked like shit.

I met some pretty interesting people and chatted with them for awhile. I met some pretty boring people who I couldn't wait to get away from. I shook a lot of hands and drank a lot of beer, and through it all, my eyes constantly sought out Kris. We'd gotten separated almost immediately, but we'd kept track of each other all throughout the evening: moments when our eyes had met, just briefly, across the room, glimpses of each other as we'd moved through the press of people. Each time we'd looked at each other, I'd smiled, and she'd given me a small smile back, and then we'd moved on, caught up in another conversation of the moment.

And then, the evening completely fell apart, at least for _me_ it did. Somebody got the bright idea to replace the blaring rock music with Van Morrison. I'd only had myself to blame. After all, I'd announced my obsession with his music to the whole entire fucking world last night at the premiere. Every song they played reminded me of that night with Bella. Together in bed, we'd listened to every one of them on my iPod and talked about them and sang them and laughed and kissed…and loved.

That was when the serious drinking started. Beer was replaced with straight liquor as I tried to get drunk enough to force her face out of my mind, drunk enough to chase away the memories. By the time we got back to the hotel, I was drunk but not nearly as wasted as I wanted to be. Bella was still floating around in my head, refusing to go away.

Kristen wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a light, tender kiss. "You are totally shit-faced." She chuckled softly. "I think you need to sleep it off… _alone_. Besides, I have some phone calls I want to make tonight."

"That's fine," I murmured. "See you in the morning." As she left and shut the adjoining door behind her, I sighed with relief. In all honesty, I was in no shape to be with anyone tonight.

I wasn't falling down, staggering, puking drunk, but I was drunk enough…

…enough to give in to the memories and relive every one of them in my mind.

…enough to want to hear her voice, even if it was just for a few minutes.

…enough to think I could call her and talk to her and everything would be all right.

I sat down on the edge of the bed with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. The room spun in circles when I closed my eyes to try and think. _You're an idiot. You can't call her. What are you going to say? 'Hi, Bella. I miss you and…oh yeah…I'm sleeping with Kristen. Hope you don't mind.'_

I dug my phone out of my pocket and searched until I found her picture. I sat in the dark and just stared at it. She was expecting me to call. I imagined her staring at her phone, wondering what I was doing, wondering when I was going to call. I had to call her. I'd promised.

_You're just going to fuck things up if you call her. Don't do it._

This wouldn't be the first time I'd ignored my own advice. I punched her number on the speed dial fully prepared to spend the next however many minutes lying my ass off if I had to. Anything to hear her voice. It rang the normal two times and then she picked up.

 _"Robert!"_ She squealed so loud I had to jerk the phone away from my ear.

"I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number. This sounds like a crazy fangirl," I said, chuckling into the phone.

 _"Sorry!"_ She laughed. _"How are you?... Where are you?... What did you do today? Oh my God, I saw the premier on the internet! It was so awesome!"_

"Bella, one question at a time!"

 _"Sorry! I'm just so excited that you called. I'll shut up."_ She was bubbling over with laughter.

"Well, let's see. I'm good. I'm still in London. Interviews, lunch and a stupid, useless party," I answered. Partial truth.

_"How long are you going to be in London?"_

"Tonight is our last night here. We fly to Munich tomorrow," I answered, sighing at the thought of doing this shit all over again, just in another country.

_"You sound so tired. Aren't you getting any sleep?"_

"I have trouble sleeping in hotels," I answered. Fucking lie.

 _"Awww, I wish I was there. I'd give you one of my treatments. That would make you sleep."_ Her voice was soft and seductive and the guilt was eating me up inside. This phone call was starting to feel like a really bad idea. When would I ever learn to listen to that voice inside my head?

_"I miss you, Robert."_

The longing in her voice made me feel sick at my stomach. "I miss you, too." Truth.

_"I don't think there's a minute that's gone by that I haven't thought of you since you left."_

"Me either," I answered softly. Fucking lie.

_"Guess what I did today?"_

"What?" I asked, smiling despite myself. I heard the excitement in her voice and could imagine her smile and sparkling brown eyes.

_"I started a novel. I'm just at the beginning stages right now, you know, developing the characters and writing a rough outline of the plot, but I'm writing a novel. Can you believe it?"_

"Bella, that's fantastic," I said. "And yes, I can believe it. You definitely have the talent to do it. What's it about?"

_"Well, it's about an ordinary man who suddenly finds himself in extraordinary circumstances. His life has gotten bigger than himself and he's so lost. Then he finds a woman who's determined to stand by him and see him through it. Of course, there's LOTS more drama in it than that, but that's the basic story."_

"That's me," I said quietly.

 _"Yes. You're my inspiration. Do you mind?"_ Her voice was hesitant and unsure.

"No, not at all," I answered softly. Wouldn't it be ironic if my fucked up, twisted life made Bella a success?  Then we both fell silent for several moments. The distance between us became even more pronounced as the silence dragged on. I didn't know what else to say. It was the first time I'd ever felt uncomfortable with her, and I fucking hated it, because it was all my fault.

And then because I was too damned drunk to know any better, I blurted out a question I didn't even realize I'd wanted to ask. "If I asked you to come and live with me, to be with me all the time, and live the life I'm leading right now, would you?"

I silently cursed myself for being a fucking idiot as the silence on the other end stretched out for forever.

 _"Are you asking me to move in with you?"_ Her voice was soft and astonished.

"I'm asking if you could be happy… _with me_ … living like this," I said quietly.

_"Honestly? I don't know. I've never wanted anything but a normal life. I don't know if we can have that the way things are now. I really have no idea if I could handle it. It seems so overwhelming."_

"So, you wouldn't. Is that what you're saying?" I asked. _Rob, what the fuck are you doing? Drop it!_

_"I'm only seventeen. I can't just leave. I have to finish high school, and go to college."_

"You wouldn't," I said flatly.

_"No. Not right now. I'm sorry."_

That was the answer I'd been expecting. She'd already hinted that she didn't think she could do it, so why the fuck was I pushing it?

_"Robert, what's wrong?"_

"I'm drunk," I answered. "Too fucking drunk to be having this conversation. I shouldn't have called you."

_"Something's wrong. Please talk to me. Tell me what's bothering you."_

"Nothing's wrong. I just get this way sometimes when I drink." Fucking lie. "I should go."

 _"Robert, don't hang up!"_ She'd heard the finality in my voice. I was so close to ending this call. I was making a mess out of what should have been a simple, light phone call.

"I've had too much to drink, I'm exhausted and I'm not thinking straight." I sighed into the phone. "And I'm sorry." Truth.

_"We need to talk about this in person and not on the phone."_

"You're right," I conceded. "I shouldn't have even brought it up."  Conversation stopped. My stomach was churning and my head was starting to ache in time with my heartbeat.

_"Whatever's wrong, just remember that I love you. You're a good man. I knew that about you long before I met you."_

If another person told me I was a good man I was going to throw up. That was the biggest fucking lie of them all. This phone call had been a huge mistake. "I have to go. I need some sleep."

 _"I love you."_ Her voice was whisper soft.

"I love you, too." Truth. And that was what was so messed up about all of this. I really _did_ love her, and I loved Kris. Then her voice was gone. I sat alone in a dark hotel room, thoroughly drunk and depressed, and went through it all again in my mind.

_This is ridiculous. You can't love her, Rob. You haven't known her long enough. You've known Kristen for months and spent twelve to fourteen hours a day with her nearly every day. You've had, what? Two weekends and some telephone conversations with Bella? That's not nearly enough time to get to know somebody, and even if you wanted to get to know her better, you've already messed it all up by sleeping with Kristen. And damn it! When you're with Kristen, you can't even remember anyone else. And you just heard from her own mouth that she doesn't want this life. So, just let her go. Just let her the fuck go! Don't think about her anymore. Don't call her anymore. Better yet, when you get home, just fucking end it._

I cursed softly and flung myself back on the bed. I scooted up to the pillows and stretched out, not even bothering to take off my clothes. My head was pounding, and bringing nausea with it. I moaned and pulled a pillow over my face and concentrated on not throwing up. Gradually, I began to relax, until the room only spun a little bit.

 _Bella and Kristen._ Both of their faces swam in my head as I lay in the quiet darkness. It was only as I started to drift off that they finally dissolved and then totally disappeared with sleep.

**A PICTURE FROM THE STUPID, USELESS PARTY**

 


	18. London: The Last Hours

_**(-Friday, December 5, 2008, approximately 2:30 AM-)** _

Fingertips travelled lightly across my stomach. I sighed as they moved slowly downward. Upon opening my eyes I saw a mass of brown hair spread across my groin. Her fingers drew soft moans from my throat as she lightly brushed them up and down my dick. All of the blood in my body rushed south as I grew hard in her hand. Her firm but gentle strokes had me groaning with pleasure. My eyes rolled back into my head when she took me deep in her mouth. I moved my hips in rhythm with her motions, digging my hands into her hair and pushing her head down harder on me.

"Oh God, Kris, that feels so good," I gasped breathlessly.

As much as I wanted to just relax and let it go, I stopped her and tugged at her hair. I begged her softly to kiss me, to put her tongue in my mouth. Her green eyes were hooded with lust as she crushed her lips to mine. We moaned together as our tongues met. I knotted my fingers in her hair and gently pulled her face back away from mine so that I could see her, so that I could gaze into those beautiful green eyes. She smiled seductively, and slid her tongue back into my mouth again as her hand slid between my legs.

I closed my eyes and ran my hands down her body, seeing each curve in my mind as my fingers travelled over them. I kneaded her breasts in both of my hands as she nibbled and sucked at my lips just how I liked it. Her fingers raked through my hair. Mine slid between her legs. She moaned softly when I began to move them in slow circles. Oh fuck, I wanted inside of her so fucking bad. I grabbed her hips roughly and pressed my dick hard against her velvety skin.

"Oh, Robert," she moaned seductively. "I want you."

I opened my eyes in shock. "Bella?"

She smiled and then groaned deep in her throat as she lowered her body down onto mine and pushed me inside of her. I cursed loudly at the feel of her surrounding me. She was so hot and wet. Her brown eyes melted as her body lightly shivered underneath my hands. She began to grind her hips against mine, pushing me even deeper inside of her. Her hair fell over her face when she dropped her head and cursed softly. She was so incredibly beautiful and sexy when she did that.

"Oh God, Bella, fuck me," I gasped painfully, digging my fingers into her hips.

And then, somebody pushed the pause button on the most incredible sex dream I'd ever had in my life. Everything slowed to a complete stop.

"Rob," someone whispered. "Rob!" Hands were gently shaking me. I slowly came awake and looked around me in confusion. I was in my hotel room, in the dark, and Kristen was straddling my hips with my dick buried deep inside of her.

"What?" I murmured groggily.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

"What?" I was trying to come to terms with the fact that I'd been dreaming. Reality was slow to return.

"You called me Bella."

Reality slammed into me hard and fast. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ "No, I didn't," I stammered.

"Yes, you did. In fact, your exact words were 'Oh God, Bella, fuck me."  I tried to gauge her reaction. She didn't look angry. If anything she looked curious, perplexed, maybe even a little amused.  "So, are you channeling Edward now?" she asked, grinning crookedly.

I chuckled uneasily and said the only thing I could think of at the moment. "Too much Twilight, I guess."

She laughed softly and lowered her body. Our eyes locked and our lips were almost touching. "Bella's a fictional character. She can't fuck anybody." She smiled and whispered seductively. "But, I'm real, and I can."

Before I could respond, she started moving. It started out slow, but quickly turned into a hard pounding together of our hips. There was no holding this one back. I pulled her against me and held on tight, digging my fingers into the soft skin of her back as she clenched my hair in her fists and took us both screaming hoarsely over the edge. She collapsed on top of me, both of us gasping for breath and trying to hold on to the pleasure as long as we could.

Afterwards, when our breathing had returned to normal and we were snuggled up enjoying the afterglow, Kris suddenly turned on her stomach and propped herself up on my chest. She chuckled to herself. "You know what I think?"

"What?" I murmured.

"I think Bella is sexually repressed. When she finally gets hold of Edward, it's going to be balls-to-the-wall sex. Poor guy's not going to know what hit him." She laughed and I couldn't help but laugh with her.

"Well what about Edward? The guy's a 108 year old virgin." I snickered. "He's got to have the hardest dick in the universe. Can you imagine?" She sputtered and laughed as I continued. "When he finally gets all up in that, he's going to kick some major ass and take names."

"Just like the man who plays him," she whispered, smiling seductively.

I felt that stupid blush creep up my face.

"Awww, you're blushing. I love it when you do that."

"I hate it," I growled.

"But Rob," she scolded me good naturedly. "It's sooo fucking sexy."

_So I've been told._

I grinned and kissed her gently. "As far as kicking ass and taking names, you're no slouch yourself, you know."

That was when things started to get a little weird.

"Better than Nikki?" she asked, suddenly serious.

_Oh hell._

"Kris, I'm not going there with you."

"Are you still sleeping with her?" I wondered where the hell this conversation was going and what the fuck I should say. Considering the mess my life was in now, I thought honesty would probably be the best way to go this time around.

"Not since that night at Peter's house."

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I was so jealous that night," she admitted. "I wanted you so bad. Even with Michael there I still wanted you. And I wanted to kill both of you when you left with her."

"Sorry about that." I sighed. "I was being a little immature that night."

She waved a hand dismissively and grimaced. "I had no right to say anything. We both know that."

She started slowly tracing imaginary circles on my chest with her index finger. Then her eyes lifted to mine. "So, what about this mystery girl Nikki keeps harping about? Is there a woman you're keeping hidden from everybody?" She was smiling mischievously but I could tell in her eyes that this was a serious question. _Time to lie my ass off._

"No, there isn't." _Keep it short and sweet, Rob. Don't elaborate._

Another round of soft kisses, and then, since things were already weird…

"So, am I better than Michael?" I asked, grinning crookedly, even though my insides were twisted into knots at wondering how she'd answer.

She ran her fingers through my hair and smiled wistfully. "Different."

_Well shit. What kind of answer is that?_ I decided it was best for my ego not to delve any further into that topic, but since we were already talking about Michael…

"What's the deal with you and him, anyway?"

She sighed and dropped her eyes for a moment. When she finally started explaining, she held onto my gaze steadily, watching, I supposed, for my reaction.  "There isn't any Michael. That night after Peter's party we had a huge fight, about _you_ , of course."

I was momentarily shocked, at finding out that I was the subject of fights between them.

"Things just got worse after that. Thanksgiving night we ended it. I guess we were both tired of all the fighting, and to be honest, this Twilight stuff didn't help matters."

I stroked her hair and tenderly pushed it back from her face. "I'm sorry." 

"I thought you'd be happy. You hate Michael."

"I don't hate him, I just don't give a shit about him," I answered truthfully. "It's _you_ I care about. You were hurting all that time and you kept it inside. You can't do that, Kris. It's not good for a person to do that. You have to talk to somebody about it."

She laughed ironically. "Yeah, who was I supposed to talk to? You? Nikki? She's my best friend, but I can't talk to her about this, not when you and she are…" Her voice trailed off into silence.

"I'm sorry." I pulled her to me and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I hate that I've caused this rift between you guys. You're friends. You need each other. I never intended to mess that up."

"I know you didn't." She sighed. "Things were just really strange there for a while."

"Well, that's over now," I said adamantly, and I meant it. As far as I was concerned, my sexual relationship with Nikki was done. Finished. "I want you guys to work this out, okay?" I tugged on her chin until her eyes met mine. "Promise me that when we get back to the States, you and Nikki will fix this."

She nodded silently and then laid her head on my chest.

I couldn't believe how surreal my life had suddenly become. Here I was in bed with this amazing woman, talking about having sex with her best friend, listening to her confessions about her ex-boyfriend, and all the while lying my ass off about having a secret girlfriend whose name was Bella, who was also a fictional character that Kris thought had repressed sexual tendencies, but only I knew that the real Bella was so far from repressed that it was unbelievable.  _And why the fuck am I thinking about Bella again?_

I sighed and pulled Kris closer. As we both fell asleep, the last thought that ran through my mind was that life just didn't get any more fucked up than this.

 

 -----------------------------------------------

_**(-Friday, December 5, 2008, 7:00 AM-)** _

"Rob." Somebody was gently shaking me. I wanted whoever it was to just go away. "Rob, get up! You have to get packed!"

The shrill ringing started again. I felt blindly on the other side of the bed, hoping to prod Kris into answering the phone. Her side was cold and empty. I cursed and reached for the damned phone. "What!" I snapped into the receiver.

"Good morning, Sunshine! Thought you might need a wake-up call. We're out of here by 9:00, Rob, so get your ass going!"  I heard an evil giggle before she disconnected. Cathy. I really hated that woman sometimes.

I dragged myself into a sitting position and immediately regretted it. My head was throbbing dully, my mouth tasted like shit, and my stomach was empty and queasy. Kris breezed through our adjoining door and started gathering up clothes right and left.

"You'd better get up," she scolded. "We're leaving for the airport at 9:00."

I watched her moving energetically throughout the room, searching for bits and pieces of her wardrobe that had ended up in my floor. "You know, as good as I was to you last night, you should pack my stuff, too."

She stopped next to the bed, her arms dripping clothes. "Excuse me? Who was good to whom last night?" She snickered and shook her head. "You should be packing _my_ shit right now, buddy."

She had a point.

She bent over and attempted to kiss me, but I turned away. "No, no, no. You don't want to do that." She tousled my hair, laughed and returned to her room.

I sighed expansively and crawled out of bed. It took me an hour and a half to shower, shave, gather up all the junk laying around the various rooms and finally pack, and I did it all to the rhythm of a pounding headache. I had to stop a couple of times and concentrate on not vomiting. _Why do I do this to myself?_ I wondered for the thousandth time.  At 8:30 I had my stuff sitting at the door ready to go. Kris came back into my suite and practically threw herself into my arms.

"I didn't get a proper greeting this morning," she growled softly as her mouth teased at mine. I spent the next several minutes kissing her and running my hands all over her body and up underneath her shirt.

"Better?" I asked when we finally pulled away from each other.

She smiled crookedly in return. "Much."

Then she left to go get her luggage. We met at the elevators and wheeled our suitcases down to the lobby for loading. Kris wanted to make a quick pit stop at the buffet they had set up for us in one of the private dining rooms. I just went along for the ride. I had my doubts about putting anything solid in my stomach.

I sat down at a table while she got her food. She returned with a plate full of fruit and a couple pieces of toast. "What kind of breakfast is that?" I asked, smirking my ass off. If I'd been able to eat, my plate would have been overflowing with eggs and sausage and biscuits, not that health-food junk she had.

"Better than what you're eating," she answered, as she eyed my side of the table, which held only a lone cup of untouched black coffee. "Oh, hell," she moaned as she poked something into her mouth. "These are fabulous! Taste one."

She pushed something green at me, and I took it without thinking. When I realized what it was, my stomach rose up into my throat. I fought down a sick feeling and it wasn't nausea. Honeydew melon. Bella's shampoo. The smell of her hair. The scent that permeated her bathroom. I grimaced and laid it back on her plate.

"What? You don't like fruit?" she asked, frowning.

"I just don't have the stomach for it this morning."

As I watched Kris finish her breakfast, I wondered just how in the hell I was supposed to put Bella out of my mind when everywhere I fucking turned something reminded me of her.

\---------------------------------------------------

 

"Rob, honey, do you ever get enough sleep?" Kris was frowning down at me. I was stretched out as much as was possible, trying to get comfortable in my seat and ignore the fact that I was thousands of feet in the air with nowhere to go but down.

"Well," I shifted my body into a more comfortable position. "If someone would let me get a full night of uninterrupted rest it would help," I grouched.

She smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

I chuckled. "No you're not."

She glanced my way and laughed softly. "You're right, I'm not. Oh well, we've got about an hour and half before we get to Munich, so let's take a nap."

I shut my eyes and soon the drone of the plane's engine and the muted conversation of the other passengers had me totally relaxed and drifting off. It vaguely registered somewhere in my brain that Kristen was talking to someone, but I was too out of it to pay any attention to what they were saying. A few moments later someone draped a blanket over me. I opened an eye and peered in her direction.

"I got us a blanket, and you a pillow," she whispered. I rose up slightly and let her slip the small pillow underneath my head. "Get some sleep Rob," she whispered as she adjusted the blanket around both of us.

I smiled. "Thanks. I will."

No sooner had I shut my eyes again than I felt her hand brush lightly over mine. I sighed in contentment and fell asleep with our fingers tightly intertwined underneath the blanket.

 

 


	19. Munich, Germany

_**(-Friday, December 5, 2008-)** _

We landed in Munich around eleven and hit the ground running. I'd slept fitfully on the plane and so was already tired before I even started, but there was no time for rest. We were given a couple of hours to eat lunch at the hotel, dump our luggage into our rooms and change clothes before Kris and I were whisked off in separate cars for an afternoon of interviews.  Our only moments together that afternoon were in the crowded elevator on the way out. A few whispered words, a smile exchanged, and a brush of hands were all we could manage before we went our separate ways.

Everyone got back together for dinner that evening, and this time we got lucky. No drab hotel food. We all piled in cars and crashed a local eatery for some authentic German cuisine. The restaurant was extremely generous and managed to keep out the paps and the crowds. For the first time in a long while, we were able to kick back and have a relaxed meal.

Kris and I sat side-by-side at the restaurant, as was nearly always the case when we were together. We chatted with those around us, but mostly we were absorbed in our own private conversation. Our legs touching beneath the table was the only intimate contact we were able to manage. I watched her lips as she spoke and wished I could kiss her. Her hand was only inches from mine during the entire meal, but I couldn't reach over and hold it. Her eyes kept drifting up to mine and then sliding away. Both of us were so hyper-aware of each other and unable to do anything about it with so many eyes watching.

We drew the meal out as long as possible, and then we sat around for a couple of hours after that drinking beer and just hanging out talking and laughing. I was exhausted, but I was enjoying the hell out of myself. It had been so long since we'd gotten to do anything normal like this. We both had too many beers. We sort of lost track, and because German beer is a lot stronger than either American or English beer, Kris and I weren't feeling any pain by the time we got back to our rooms around 11:00.  We managed to walk somewhat normally through the lobby and into the elevators, but once those doors slid shut, Kris fell back against the wall and started laughing her ass off. I laughed right along with her, wondering what in the hell was so funny, but not really giving a damn.

"I am so fucking drunk," she said, laughing and moaning. "I don't know how in the hell I managed to walk through that lobby without staggering."

"Neither do I." I was messed up, but she was in a lot worse shape than I was.

Thankfully, our rooms were just down the hall from the elevators. She whispered in my ear before we each went into our separate rooms. I kicked off my shoes and waited in the dark. I didn't have to wait very long.  She came through the adjoining door in a rush. She was barefoot and sexy as hell. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hungrily as she backed me up against a wall. The sexual tension of being together all evening but being unable to touch each other came pouring out of us. Our mouths never parted as our hands grazed all over each other's bodies. I moaned as her tongue probed deep in my mouth and her hands moved downward.

"Rob, I have a confession to make," she moaned in between kisses.

I made some sort of noise to let her know I'd heard her, but I was too involved in kissing her neck and unbuttoning her shirt to actually have a conversation.

"That day at Catherine's house, at your audition-" she started, but I interrupted her with a deep kiss that left her panting for breath. "That day-" She started unbuttoning my shirt. "-when you kissed me, you completely soaked my panties. I wanted to fuck you right there on that bed in front of everybody."

I groaned at her revelation and also when her hands started fumbling with the buttons on my jeans.

"God, I hate these fucking button fly jeans you wear," she growled in frustration after being unable to get them loose. I pushed her hand away, and had them undone in a matter of seconds. I closed my eyes and cursed softly as her hand slid inside and started rubbing me.

I pushed her bra up and out of the way. The fuck with trying to get the damned thing unsnapped. I kneaded her breasts, rubbing her hard nipples with my palms and then my thumbs. She moaned into my mouth as we continued to kiss each other almost constantly.

"Oh God, Rob," she whimpered when I twitched in her hand. "And then, I went in Catherine's bathroom-" she moaned as I started unsnapping and unzipping her pants. "-and gave myself the best fucking orgasm I'd had in a long time, by just thinking about that kiss."

I pushed her pants down past her hips, and laughed softly. "At least _I_ waited until I got home."

She pulled back from me in shock. "You too?"

I nodded. "That night, and every night after that, for a long time."

A small whimper escaped her throat before she buried her hands in my hair and started devouring my mouth again. I gripped her hips and ground into her. Finally, she shucked off her pants and pulled me into the bedroom. As I ripped off my jeans, she took everything else off and dropped it to the floor. I laid her down on the bed and began to plant soft kisses down her face and neck.

"Rob," she moaned as I dipped my head down to her throat, intending to kiss my way down to her breasts.

"Hmmm?"

"Cut the romantic bullshit and just fuck me," she growled huskily.

_I love it when girls tell you exactly what they want._ I braced one hand against the headboard, and slid the other one under her hip and went at it hard, fast and deep, my specialty.  Loving Kris was like having pure adrenaline shot directly into your heart. Like driving a fast car and feeling its power hum beneath you. Like a hit of speed must feel as it slides into your veins. Her fingers dug into my arms and chest as I drove into her hard. We came together, groaning loudly against each other's skin as our hearts pounded in our chests and we fought to breathe.

When it was over, I collapsed on top of her in exhaustion. The small bit of fumes that had kept my body going all day had completely evaporated. I was done. I rolled over and gathered her up in my arms. We lay quietly for awhile, listening to each other's breathing gradually slow. I felt myself drifting off to sleep when Kris jolted me awake with her laughter.

"You know what would be funny?" She laughed and flipped over so that her chin was now propped on her hand and on my chest.

I smiled sleepily. "What?"

"I'd love to go out on the balcony, stark naked, and tell those paparazzi and all those fangirls, and anybody else who's around: 'I just fucked Robert Pattinson, and you didn't! Take _that_ , you bitches!'. Wouldn't that be hilarious?"

"Kris-" I smiled and brushed her hair back off her forehead. "-you're drunk on your ass, babe."

"Yeah, I am, but still, wouldn't that just be fucking hilarious?"

I guessed that if I was as drunk as she was it might be. "I don't think so," I said, chuckling as the image of a naked Kristen Stewart on the cover of Life & Style with black squares over her privates, and the headline, 'Did Rob & Kris do the dirty?', popped into my head.

"Well,  _somebody_ needs to know just how fucking good Robert Pattinson is," she insisted stubbornly. Then she locked eyes with me. "I mean it. You have a way of making a girl feel like she's been thoroughly and completely fucked. I mean, totally satisfied. You kick ass in bed, dude."

I laughed, and felt that stupid blush creeping up my face. "That's bullshit. And remind me to never let you drink German beer again."

She grinned and plopped her head down on my chest and sighed expansively. Hopefully she'd go to sleep before she thought about going up on the roof and shouting that shit to the entire world. She got quiet while I lightly rubbed her back. I felt my eyes sliding shut.

"So, what's with the feet?" she asked suddenly.

Shit. My eyes popped open just as I'd been drifting off. I sighed and looked down the length of my body at my feet. "What?" I asked, puzzled.

"Your feet," she said. "Look at them. To be such a beautiful man, you have the ugliest feet I've ever seen." Then she… _giggled._

"Did you just giggle?" I asked, shocked. "I don't believe I've ever heard you giggle before." I laughed in astonishment.

She continued giggling even harder. I looked back at my feet again, just lying down at the end of the bed and minding their own business. "What's wrong with them?" I asked, totally confused.

"They're big. Huge, actually. And bony." She giggled.

"You giggled again!"

She frowned up at me. "Shut up. You're just trying to change the subject."

"Well, feet aren't supposed to be pretty. They have like a million bones in them, for shit's sake. Of course they're going to be bony."

"Mine are pretty," she purred. Then she wiggled her toes playfully and grinned up at me.

Well hell. She was right. Hers _were_ pretty.  "Hmmm, you got me there," I admitted, chuckling. "Well, everybody needs some flaws, I guess. It gives them character, a sort of mystique. Mine's my feet," I answered smugly.  I couldn't let this opportunity just pass me by.  "At least I can cover up my flaws with some nice shoes," I said nonchalantly. I didn't have long to wait before she was in my face, her brows pulled together in a deep frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrugged and smirked. "Just that some flaws are easier to cover up than others."

"All right. Spit it out. What's my flaw?" she asked, smiling crookedly.

"Your personality," I answered, grinning. "It sucks."

She grabbed a pillow and started pummeling me over the head. "It does not!"

I attempted to cover my face from the blows. "Does too!" I yelped in between hits.

She finally stopped, and I was relieved to see that she was laughing along with me. "You're right. I have a terrible personality," she whined hopelessly. "I'm just not out-going like a lot of people. I wish I were."

I smiled and stroked her hair. "Well,you have beautiful hair, so I guess I can overlook the sucky personality part."

"I love how you make me laugh," she said quietly. "And how you make me feel so special with I'm with you, like I'm the only girl in the world."  A stab of guilt shot through me and then was gone as quickly as it had come.  "I had so much fun tonight," she said softly. "Being eighteen hasn't been all that great so far."

I suddenly felt sorry for her. I'd never really thought about her turning eighteen in the middle of all this shit, with cameras focused on her all the time, never being able to just let loose and be a teenager. When she'd turned eighteen, Catherine had given her a birthday cake on set and after we'd all eaten, we'd went straight back to work and shot film the rest of the night into the early morning hours. She hadn't even gotten a proper party until a week later.

When I was eighteen, nobody knew who the fuck I was. I crawled the pubs in London and got drunk or high and stayed up all night playing music with my friends and no one cared. Nobody gave a flying fuck about Robert Pattinson. She couldn't do any of that. She was an insect under a microscope, an eighteen year old insect with all the wants and desires of any normal teenager when they first realize they're on their own.

"You need to do stuff like tonight more often. Not necessarily the getting drunk part, but just hanging out with friends and talking, laughing and just relaxing."

She sighed and cuddled up closer against me. I held her tightly and neither one of us spoke again as we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

\-------------------------------------- 

_**(-Saturday, December 6, 2008 -)** _

I woke up to someone moaning. I glanced over and Kris was sitting up, her knees pulled up under her chin, her arms wrapped around them, and nothing but hair visible.

"Kris?" I whispered softly. "You okay?"

"Just shoot me," she said, her weak voice muffled underneath her hair. "Just shoot me right now and put me out of my misery."

I looked at the clock. 9:00 AM.  "We have to get moving," I whispered. I knew her head was probably pounding out of her skull, so I kept everything to a whisper. "We have something in the afternoon. I forget what, but we've only got a couple of hours to get our shit together."

"Stupid magazine interview," she whispered. "I don't know why they bother."

"You have any medicine with you?"

She moaned in pain. "In my carry on."

I eased out of bed as carefully as I could and went in search of some Ibuprofen. I returned with four. I took a couple myself while I was at it, even though my hangover was mild compared to that night in London.  She didn't even question the four pills. She swallowed them down and slowly dragged herself out of bed. She walked out of my suite and into hers like she was walking on eggshells. I smiled sadly to myself. Eighteen didn't look like it felt so good today.

We met downstairs in the dining room. It was the exact opposite of London. I ate a plate full of food, while she sipped black coffee and, I imagined, tried not to throw up in her own lap.

The interview went as well as expected, considering one of us was hung over and the other one was perpetually sleep deprived. Cathy didn't say a word, so evidently we were better actors than we thought.

The premier was exactly the same as the one in London, just a different country and a different language. Same questions, same screaming girls, same everything. Kris was feeling much better by that time, so things went smoothly. She was so beautiful in her solid white dress and black heels. It was difficult for me to keep my eyes off of her, as well as my hands. One arm around her waist was all we were ever allowed in public.

Bella and Edward.  That was who we were to everyone in that room. I wondered if any of them stopped to think about Kristen and Rob? While their cameras were flashing and they were screaming our names, did they even see us as people, or just these two characters with their flat, one-dimensional lives?  Not one of them could even imagine what it was like to be in our shoes, to want to be together without feeling like we had to hide it, to want to hold hands or kiss, not just stand with an arm around a waist, to want to walk the streets and have fun together without having to run from place to place.

It would have been different if this fame was something we both had sought out from the beginning. Many actors did. That was their only goal: fame and fortune. Neither Kris nor I had gone into this business to become megastars. We just enjoyed acting and especially liked working steadily. We hadn't asked for all of this. We'd both simply showed up and auditioned for a small film that we'd thought would be interesting to make. We'd seen something in the characters that had intrigued us, or that we'd thought would be a challenge to bring to the screen. And now we were living what some would call an incredible dream come true.  Sometimes it was. But, sometimes it wasn't.  All we could do was take things one day at a time.

After the premier, there was, of course, an after-party. Kris and I both did the smart thing for once, and steered clear of alcohol altogether. We'd agreed in the car ride over that sleeping was the most important thing on our agenda tonight. So after all the mingling and small talk was done, we left the party and escaped into the quietness of our hotel rooms.

We stood together in the darkness and kissed softly for awhile. Then we both undressed and crawled between the cool, crisp sheets. We snuggled until we were both warm, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

 

 


	20. Paris, France (Day One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may seem like a waste of time to some of you, since there's nothing much exciting happening in it. But I thought it was necessary, and let me explain why. First, it sets the stage for the events to come in the next few chapters, but more importantly, I wanted them to have an afternoon and evening alone with no work commitments. It took me quite awhile to figure out just what they would do in such a situation. It wasn't easy, believe me. These two people can't just walk out of their hotel room and do what most normal people would do: sightsee, go eat at a restaurant or sidewalk cafe, poke around in shops buying souvenirs. They're basically prisoners in a fancy hotel suite.

_**(-Sunday, December 7, 2008-)** _

I had no sooner gotten comfortable in my seat than we were descending to Paris. I sighed as the pilot gave instructions to fasten our seatbelts for landing.

"Just a few more days." Kristen sighed and patted my hand, which was clutched tightly to the arm rest.

I threw a small silent smile in her direction and steeled myself for the landing. It was uncanny sometimes how easily she could sense what I was thinking. We'd spent so much time together these past months that we were almost like an old married couple. I think if we tried really hard we could probably finish each other's sentences.

We got our luggage without incident; no annoying paparazzi hounded us through the terminal. The car ride was equally uneventful until we reached the Hotel Carillon. A huge mob of fans crowded the front entrance making it impossible for us to even get close. We spent about thirty minutes waiting in the car while hotel security tried to clear the road and sidewalks. The screaming was deafening even from inside the car. I couldn't imagine what it would be like once we were outside. _This is fucking insane!_

"This is totally, fucking insane," Kristen whispered quietly as she stared out the car window, mirroring my thoughts.

Finally, after the crowds had been pushed behind roped off partitions, we were hustled out of the car and through the front entrance by several beefy security men. Girls screamed our names, cameras appeared out of nowhere in front of our faces, reporters yelled out random questions, hands reached for us and occasionally managed to make contact. I tried to tune it all out and keep focused on keeping it together and just getting inside the building. The crowd was too close and appeared to be barely under control. I felt the uneasy flutters of panic creeping in.

Cathy and her entourage were left in the lobby to take care of check-in details and luggage, while Kris and I were whisked upstairs to our suites. I closed the door behind me and tossed my duffle bag onto the nearest chair. I fell onto the sofa and sat with my head in my hands and my heart in my throat. The quiet of the dim room was heavenly. I vaguely heard the adjoining door open and with a soft rustle of fabric, Kristen sat down beside me.

"Shit," I whispered softly, my head still in my hands.

"Are you okay?" Her hand was lightly touching my shoulder.

"I will be. Just give me a minute."

She rubbed my shoulder tenderly and lightly rifled her fingers through my hair. It was strangely relaxing and I felt the panic sliding slowly away.

"This shit is out of control."

"Yeah," she agreed softly.

We sat together on the sofa for a long time. Neither one of us spoke. We just held hands and thought our own thoughts.

"These rooms are really nice," she said finally.

Now that she mentioned it, I realized I hadn't even bothered to notice anything since I'd walked in and collapsed on the couch. Now, I took the time to look around me and was astonished at the luxuriousness of the suite. Heavy gold brocade drapes kept away the daylight. The thick beige carpet under our feet sank down softly with each step. Winged-back chairs in gold and green brocade were scattered throughout the room, each piled with coordinating throw pillows. The headboard of the bed was draped in similar fabric and piled with pillows. A huge flat screen television was mounted on the wall opposite the bed. Lush flower arrangements dotted the end tables all around the room. I wondered what the bathroom looked like.

"Holy hell," I swore softly. This was by far the nicest hotel we'd ever stayed in.

"Wonder how long it'll take you to mess it up?" she asked, grinning crookedly. She knew me. I was nothing but a slob.

I smiled. "I should have it broken in by tonight. All it needs is a few clothes on the floor and some candy wrappers here and there."

"Well, as far as prisons go, it's pretty luxurious." She sighed, got up and crossed the room to a brocaded window. She pushed aside the sheer curtain underneath and peeked outside.  "The crowd's still out there," she noted. "And there's an obelisk over across the road. Wonder what that is?"

I got up and joined her by the window. "Actually, I know what that is."

"You do?" she asked.

"Yeah. I _did_ pay attention once in a while in history class." I rolled my eyes and her and smirked. "When I wasn't getting into trouble, I did. Anyway, that area across the street is called the Place de la Concorde. The Egyptian government gave that obelisk to France as a gift. They sat it right in the spot where they used to kill people with the guillotine. A lot of people died out there in that square."

Kristen looked up at me like I'd suddenly grown two heads, then shook her head and smiled. "Just when I think I know everything about you, you blow me out of the water with something totally random." She turned to me and snaked her arms around my waist. "You are such an interesting man."

I leaned my head gently against her forehead and sighed. "What are we going to do this afternoon? No interviews, no appearances, no photo shoots. We have the entire evening to ourselves."

"I wish we could go out and sightsee a little," she said wistfully.

"There's no way you're getting me outside that door," I said emphatically. "I don't want to deal with that shit today."

"Okay. Then let's grab some lunch, maybe with Cathy and Catherine, and then...I don't know...maybe we can snuggle up in that fancy bed with some movies. Whadda ya say?"

That sounded like heaven to me. A perfect evening in my book. And that was just what we did. Kristen called Cathy and they arranged to have a private dining room reserved for our entire party. We had a long two hour lunch in luxury. The food was surprisingly good for a hotel and the company was even better. By three o'clock, Kris and I were back in my suite lounging on the bed while she surfed the channels for movies.

We snuggled together and tried to watch badly dubbed American movies in French. Even with captions it was a pain in the ass. To me it just felt good to stretch out on a bed and rest. I was so damned tired, and no amount of sleep seemed to be helping. As her fingers twined idly in my hair, I felt myself drifting off. The last thing I remembered was a light touch of her lips to my forehead.

I awoke to silence. I eyed the room slowly to get my bearings. The Hotel Carillon. Bad French movies. Kristen.  She was beside me on the bed reading a magazine. She looked down at me and chuckled. "Oh good, you're awake."

I groaned and turned on my side to face her.

"You know, I have to be the luckiest woman alive," she said, grinning. "Because, I just had the privilege of listening to the great Robert Pattinson snore his ass off for three solid hours. Life just doesn't get any better than that," she finished with an exaggerated sigh.

"Damn right you're lucky." I growled and pulled her over on top of me. "My snoring is sexy."

I buried my head in her hair. She giggled as my tongue found its way into her ear. "Trust me, your snoring is NOT sexy." She laughed and tried to wiggle away from me. "Mmmm, but everything else is."

The seductive tone of her voice was all it took for my body to respond, and her hips pressing down on mine helped matters along even faster. In a matter of seconds our playful banter was gone, replaced with urgent whispers and hard, deep kisses. My hands gripped her hips as I pushed up against her.

"Damn, Rob," she whispered huskily. "God, I want you."

I moaned softly at her words and at the feel of her hips brushing over me.

Suddenly she yelped and then giggled. "Ooh, that feels good!" My phone was vibrating in my pants pocket and against her hip.

"Sorry." I smiled with embarrassment and dug the phone out of my pocket. Without looking at who was calling, I tossed it onto the floor. After a few moments, it fell silent, forgotten under the edge of the bed.

Our tongues snaked together as our hands hurriedly undid buttons and unzipped zippers. Our lips separated only long enough for clothes to be stripped off and then were immediately locked together again.

"So, do you want the romantic bullshit or not?" I asked in between frantic kisses.

"To hell with that." She lowered herself onto me and took me deep inside her.

I groaned and pulled her body against mine. "Fuck," I moaned against her cheek. "Oh, you feel so fucking good, Kris."

The sex was like it always seemed to be with us: hard and mind-blowingly intense. There was no stopping once we found a rhythm we liked. We pushed our bodies with a single-minded focus. Our hands fought for purchase on sweat-slicked skin as we moved together. I was moaning almost constantly as her hips moved in ways guaranteed to drive a man insane with lust. I couldn't push hard enough into her, or far enough. I wanted more of her than was possible for the limits of my body. I wanted to pound her relentlessly until she screamed my name. This was like fucking on a rollercoaster while it was hurtling down the rails at one hundred miles per hour. The adrenaline rush was overpowering it was so intense.

I couldn't hold it any longer. I wrapped my arms around her and dug my fingers into her back. I relaxed and let go, moaning loudly into her hair and against the soft skin of her neck as I released into her. Her body shook in my arms as her orgasm followed mine. My name echoed in the silent room, over and over again as she shuddered with pleasure. We held each other tight as we waited for our bodies to calm.

"Damn," I chuckled breathlessly. "You have a way of making a guy feel like he's been thoroughly and completely fucked."

She snickered as I threw her words from the other night back at her. "Hey, that's my line."

"Yeah, but it's true." I gathered her against me in my arms. We kissed and held each other, only talking every once in a while.

"I'm so tired. The past couple of days I can't seem to get enough sleep," she murmured as her eyes grew heavy. Strange. That was exactly how I felt. I ran my fingers lightly over her skin until I heard her breathing become regular.

Later, when she was sleeping soundly, I pulled away from her and slipped on my jeans. I made a trip to the bathroom and just about fainted. The bathtub wasn't a normal bathtub at all. It was huge! More like a Jacuzzi. There were jet nozzles ringing the inside of it, and glass partitions all around it in case a person wanted to shower. I smiled to myself. _I know what we're going to do tonight._

On my way back to the bed, I dug a book out of my duffle bag. As I started to crawl in next to Kristen, my foot hit something underneath the edge of the bed. I bent down to see what it was. My phone. I'd forgotten all about dropping it on the floor earlier.  I snuggled up against her with my book and phone and decided to check my messages. I had one missed call. I hit 'view' and froze. The phone number was instantly familiar.

Bella.  Bella had tried to call me earlier, just before Kris and I had...

She never called me. I was always the one to call her. I wondered briefly if there was something wrong, an emergency or something. Then I dismissed that. If it was that important she would have called back or left a voice mail and my voice mail was empty. I debated back and forth with myself over whether to call her back. I was ashamed to admit that I wanted to. I _really_ wanted to. But remembering how badly I'd fucked up the last phone call was enough to bring me to my senses. I shook my head in frustration and deleted everything from my incoming calls box. I laid the phone on the bedside table and turned my attention to my book until Kris woke up.

We called room service for dinner that night. We ate quietly, intent on our food, our conversation sporadic. What may have been awkward silence between other couples was a comfortable blanket of peace to us. When you spent hours upon hours with someone, you, by necessity, developed an intuitive awareness of their moods. Neither of us felt especially talkative tonight, and we were all right with that. We both knew what kind of day we had facing us tomorrow. We were savoring our quiet time.

"I need to make some phone calls," she said finally, pushing away from the small table. "I'll pop back over in about an hour, if that's all right?"

"That's fine," I answered lightly. "By the way, have you checked out the bathrooms?"

She smiled slyly and bit her lip. "Yeah, I did. While you were asleep."

"Pretty impressive," I commented nonchalantly.

"Hm hmm. The fixtures on the sinks...I think they're real gold," she said, nodding her agreement.

"You think?" I asked, feigning astonishment.

"And the towels are embroidered with silk, too," she added.

"Wow, I didn't notice that." I paused to finish off my glass of wine. Our eyes met across the table.

"Did you see the bathtub?" she asked softly, holding my gaze.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "There was a bathtub? How in the world did I miss that?"

A mischievous grin spread across her face. "I really think you need a bath tonight, Rob. We wouldn't want to fuel any rumors about you smelling bad or anything."

"And your hair needs washing," I added.

"No, YOUR hair needs washing!" She laughed and got up to leave, but paused beside me long enough to plant a soft kiss near my ear. "I'll see you in an hour… _and_ …I like my water _hot,_ " she whispered, brushing my ear with her lips. Then she was gone, leaving behind a wave of chill bumps on my skin.

An hour later, I was chest deep in hot steaming water. I closed my eyes, laid my head back on the marble surrounding the tub and let the tension drain out of my body. Damn, I could really get used to this.

I opened an eye when I heard the click of the bathroom door. Kris walked across the room, peeling off clothes with every step. I watched her progress silently. She really was an amazingly beautiful woman. She slid slowly into the water on the opposite end of the tub from me, sighing with pleasure.

"God, I could get used to this," she moaned softly.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

She laid her head back and closed her eyes. We soaked in the hot water for awhile without talking. An occasional sigh was the only sound either of us made.

"So, you want to wash my feet, since you're down there?" I asked, snickering.

She raised her head slightly and looked back at me through slitted eyes. "You've got to be kidding." Then she laid her head back with a deep sigh, ignoring me entirely.

Nothing else was said between us. I washed my hair and the rest of my body while she just laid there across from me with her eyes shut the entire time.

"Kris...hey," I said, poking her with my foot. She raised her head and opened her eyes. For an instant, I thought I saw sadness in them, but it disappeared so quickly that I was sure that it must have been my imagination. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with her.  "Are you all right?"

She shrugged and made an incomprehensible sound.

"What's wrong? Tell me."

She sighed. "I was talking to my agent. No word yet on The Runaways. I guess I'm a little concerned."

"You'll get the part, don't worry about it. I told you before, you're the best actress of our generation," I assured her. After a short silence, I pushed a little harder. "Something else is bothering you. Spit it out."

"No, that's all...really," she insisted, but she wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'll just be glad to get home. I'm so fucking tired."

"And you're really not going to wash my feet?" I asked, smiling.

She grinned that adorable crooked grin of hers. "No, I'm not going to wash your ugly old feet. Wash them yourself, buddy."

I laughed and scooted down to her end of the tub and enfolded her in my arms. She fell against my chest with a deep sigh. I knew her well enough to know when something was bothering her. And since I knew her so well, I also knew she'd tell me what it was all in good time; maybe not tonight, but eventually.

"Want some alone time?" I whispered against her hair.

"That'd be nice. Thanks," she whispered back.

I tugged her chin up and kissed her lightly, got out, dried off, and left her alone in the bathtub to sort through whatever it was that was upsetting her. I laid out my clothes for tomorrow, called the front desk to arrange a wake-up call for in the morning, and then dug some junk food out of my duffle bag. I crawled under the covers with my food and my book and waited for her. After about a half an hour, she finally emerged from the bathroom and slid between the covers beside me.

"Want some?" I asked, offering to share my small bag of M & Ms with her.

She shook her head silently and turned on her side, facing away from me.

"Hey," I whispered. "Turn over." I tugged on her shoulder until she finally turned over and snuggled up against me. "You know you can talk to me about whatever it is that's bothering you, don't you?"

"I know," she said quietly. "But right now, all I want you to do is hold me."

I dropped my book and candy in the floor, reached over near the bedside table and switched off the wall lamp. I wrapped both my arms around her and pulled her close. In the darkness, I felt her body relax against mine as I stroked her hair, and ran my fingers lightly up and down her arm. After awhile, she fell asleep in my arms. And I followed her soon after.

 

**THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE AND THE OBELISK (HOTEL CARILLON IN THE BACKGROUND)**

**OUR HOTEL CARILLON SUITE**

**THE PRIVATE DINING ROOM WHERE WE ATE LUNCH**


	21. Paris, France: The Last Days

_**(-Monday, December 8, 2008-)** _

I awoke just as darkness was giving way to the dim, gray light of morning. I glanced to my left at the bedside clock. Only about an hour before the madness of this day, the last one of the press junket, was to begin. I glanced to my right and was startled to see Kris wide awake, her green eyes staring intently back at me.

"What are you doing awake?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Couldn't sleep," she whispered, and then smiled. "I've been watching you sleep."

"That's a little creepy."

"You're beautiful."

A wave of déjà vu swept over me. Bella had said almost the exact same thing to me. Kris snuggled up and tried to kiss me. I shook my head and pulled away from her.  "I need a bathroom break. I'll be right back."

As soon as I returned to bed and slid between the covers, she pulled me to her. The kiss was soft, gentle, and lingering. "I'm sorry about last night," she said. "I kind of ruined things with my mood."

"It's all right," I murmured against her cheek. My lips wandered slowly back to hers after planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw.

"Rob, we don't have time."

"We've got an hour before we have to get up," I said, my lips grazing her ear.

"That's not enough time."

"Hey!" I laughed softly and pulled back so I could see her face. "I can do hard and fast, no problem."

She stroked my cheek softly, her finger straying across my lips. "I don't want hard and fast. This is our last night in Europe. I want slow and soft, with lots of romantic bullshit."

That sounded really good to me, and worth the wait.  "Tonight then," I murmured against her lips.

We spent that next precious hour of quiet in bed talking and kissing. When the hour was up, Kris sighed, slid from bed and disappeared into her room to get ready for the day.

We met in the dining room for a quick breakfast. Kristen was beautiful, as usual, in a black and white striped strapless dress and black heels. I was less formal in a black suit and white shirt with no tie. We eyed each other in the elevator. No words were necessary. We both were thinking of tonight and wishing like hell we didn't have to go through today to get there. We piled into the car with Cathy and sped off for our first appearance on the French television show, Le Grand Journal.

"This is going to be a little tough, guys," Cathy instructed in the car. "Live audience and all in French. You'll have an earbud feeding you the questions in English, and an interpreter will dub over the French interpretation of your answer for the audience. Just focus on what's in your ear, and tune out all the rest and you'll do fine."

Kris glanced at me and sighed. I knew she was nervous about it. We were both uncomfortable enough doing interviews in English. This was going to be doubly stressful.  The interview really was a little uncomfortable and awkward. Kristen eyes strayed to mine many times during the hour, seeking assurance that she was doing all right. We did our best, and evidently we did all right because Cathy congratulated us afterwards. We were both relieved to finally leave that studio, though. We giggled like two goofy kids as we walked down the hallway, kidding each other about how badly we did, and how the French probably thought we were a couple of American morons—well one American moron and one English moron. To the French, it was probably the same difference.

We were led to another small studio to play an interview game. We were flashed questions on a screen in front of us that we had to read aloud and answer. If we didn't want to answer, or the answer was an emphatic "no", we had to hit the buzzer on the arm of our seat. I got a little silly during that short interview, but it was fun, and it got Kris to finally relax and laugh a little.

We headed back to the hotel for lunch and a lengthy meeting on how the rest of the evening was to proceed. Then we parted ways, off to our separate suites to get ready for the premiere.

A photo call and autograph session was scheduled that evening in one of the huge banquet rooms of the hotel. By 5:00 Kris and I were dressed and ready, hovering behind a closed door, preparing ourselves mentally for what lay just beyond it. Cathy nodded in our direction. Our cue to enter.

"Well," Kris sighed and grinned up at me. "Let's go fuck those cameras."

Another strong wave of déjà vu swept through me. Fuck. Was there anything that didn't remind me of Bella? I pushed it aside as we pushed through the double doors and into the banquet hall to the waiting crowd.  The next hours were filled with camera flashes and screams and countless handshakes, on-the-fly interviews that answered the same mundane questions we'd been asked a thousand times before.

I signed autographs until my fingers ached, smiled until my face hurt. We had ten seconds with each fan, not enough time to notice anything about them except what they wanted you to write on their book, their tote bag, or a picture. One particular fan, in her ten seconds, asked me what it would take for me to notice her. Out of sheer boredom I said the first thing that popped into my mind. 'Take your clothes off.', which she proceeded to do, to my astonishment. Security appeared in an instant and whisked her away. I stared after them, my mouth hanging open in shock. Kris was smirking in my direction, obviously enjoying my discomfort. At that moment, I made a mental note to think from now on before I spoke, since these people seemed to take everything I said literally.

After the premier was the after party: lots of liquor, loud music, dancing, and pressing of flesh. When this Twilight hoopla had first begun, these parties had been fun. Now, I just wanted the quiet of my hotel room. Partying with complete strangers no longer appealed to me. I longed for my close circle of friends in London, spending an evening around the table emptying as many beer bottles as we could, laughing and singing and playing music until dawn. That was my kind of party. This was overwhelming and exhausting.

By the time we'd arrived at the party, the fatigue was already starting to set in. By the time it was over, it was an effort just to put one foot in front of the other. The tiredness that had plagued me for days just wouldn't leave. It permeated every muscle in my body. My feet hurt and my shoulders were tense from posing for photographs. My back was tired and the stupid tag in the collar of my shirt was itching. What I wanted more than anything was to be back in my suite and curled up in that huge bed with Kris.  I caught her eyes across the room and saw the same exhaustion mirrored in hers. I stood in place as she gradually threaded her way through the crowd towards me. She sidled up to me. I bent my head down so I could hear her over the noise.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," she hissed in my ear.

We sought out Cathy to tell her we were leaving. She hustled us both out a back door and down a long, quiet hallway to the elevators.

"Have fun you two!" She laughed drunkenly and left us at the elevators, then weaved her way back down the hall. Evidently Cathy was having a little fun of her own for once.

As soon as we shut the door to my suite behind us, I yanked off my jacket and then the annoying itchy shirt and threw them both on the floor. Kris slid into my arms, and we held each other in the darkness.

"Is there any music in this place?"

"I don't know, maybe a sound system. I can look," I offered.

She sighed. "No. I don't want to let you go long enough to look." Her arms tightened around me and she pressed her entire body firmly against mine. The feel of her, soft and feminine, sent all my blood rushing south. In a matter of moments, I was hard and aching for her.

We started to sway, just a little, to nonexistent music, dancing and brushing against each other lightly, and then harder. Our heavy breathing was the only sound in the still room.  Kris had told me earlier that she wanted romance tonight, so I gave it to her: lots of kissing, deep kisses that had her whimpering softly and light ones, with a playful nip of teeth that left her laughing seductively, and then later gasping with pleasure. Kissing had always been one of my favorite things to do. I was pretty sure I was good at it. If the sounds coming out of her throat were any indication, she agreed with me. My hands played at her breasts, and even through the thick fabric of her dress, I could feel her nipples getting hard.

I fumbled with the zipper at her back, and managed to get it halfway down. She chuckled and reached around behind her, and in seconds the dress was puddled on the floor around her feet. She kicked it away as my eyes swept over her. I gasped and then groaned as my dick throbbed in reaction. She was completely nude. No strapless bra, no panties, no anything. The only thing she had on was black heels.

"Oh fuck, have you been like this all day?" I moaned breathlessly.

"Yeah," she whispered with a wicked smile. "You can't imagine how sexy it is to wear a dress with no panties. I thought about telling you, maybe in the middle of the interview, or in the middle of the premiere." She chuckled and then thrust her tongue into my mouth before I could respond. Then she pulled quickly away. "But I thought that would be a little mean." She kissed me again, sucking at my mouth, and raking her fingers through my hair. Everything that I loved.

"I imagined you inside of me all day," she said.

All I could manage in response was a deep moan and a string of whispered curses in her ear as my hands moved over her body. She attempted to stroke me through my pants, but I was too far gone for that. I didn't think I could stand to feel her fingers brush across me, and I knew I couldn't handle her gripping me tightly in her hand.

I grabbed her wrist and shook my head. "You're driving me insane, you know that, don't you?"

A soft laugh was her only response, as she pulled me with her to our bed.

I entered her slowly and with a long, drawn out sigh. She gasped and then cradled my face in her hands. "Slow, Rob. Slow."

I did what she wanted and loved her slowly, gentle thrusts intermingled with lots of kissing and touching and moaning softly in her hair. Our lovemaking was different tonight. Maybe it was because our time alone together was coming to an end, or maybe we simply connected on a deeper level for once. I didn't know. She was incredibly open with me, giving of herself so freely. It was intense in a way it never had been before. Her eyes watched me intently; her fingers strayed over my face as I moved inside of her.

And she talked to me, softly at first, and then more urgently as her orgasm neared. Such sweet things she said to me, things I never knew she'd felt. She was sharing so much of herself with me that I was hard pressed to keep my mind on what I was doing. I was mesmerized by her, completely and totally shit-faced in love with her.

"I love you, Rob," she moaned as she tightened around me. "I love you. I love you," she continued to gasp softly as the pleasure built. I was stunned. Lust slammed into me hard while I listened to her profess her love for me over and over again. I gathered her up in my arms and thrust into her rough and deep; the sound of our bodies hitting together drowned out everything else. Words were coming out of my mouth, but I had no fucking idea what I was saying. I was lost in the moment, totally fucking insane and out of my head with lust and love and the luscious throb of my orgasm moving closer.  She came first, screaming hoarsely and digging her fingers into my biceps. At the sound of her pleasure, and the sight of it washing over her face, I let go. The sounds that came out of me as I exploded inside of her were shocking. Was that me? I sounded like a fucking animal.

She left me gasping for air and whimpering like a helpless child, my body sprawled over hers in complete exhaustion. I struggled to talk, to say something to her, perhaps apologize for being so heavy, but I didn't have the breath yet to do it. Our hearts thumped wildly as we lay together and waited it out. I shut my eyes and relaxed while her fingers played in my hair.  After a while, I began to sense something was wrong. She felt tense underneath me. Then, a quiet, choked sob broke the silence. My head shot up in an instant to find Kris struggling to hold back tears. Her eyes were brimming with them, her mouth closed in a tight line as she tried to control it. She was literally fighting to hold it in.

"Kris, what is it? Tell me!" I whispered softly, but urgently.

She lost the battle. She wrapped her arms around my neck and started crying, deep sobs that sounded painful and made me feel like a helpless idiot. I did the only thing I knew to do: I held her close and let her cry it out. It was useless to ask her what was wrong. Her crying was so intense she probably couldn't have spoken even if she had wanted to.  I couldn't imagine what was causing her such pain, as I held her and whispered comforting words to her. It was a long time before she finally quieted, and even then an occasional snub would shake her body with its violence. I fought the urge to try and get her to talk, and just waited patiently for her to tell me whatever it was. She always did, after all.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally, still snubbing.

"For what?" I asked, and then laughed, like a woman bursting into tears in my arms was an everyday occurrence.

"This is our last night together," she said quietly, so quietly that I almost missed it.

I tugged on her chin and found her eyes. She tried to look away but I wouldn't let her. "Don't do that. Look at me." She finally relented and stared intently at me, her emerald green eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying. "This doesn't have to end here," I insisted. I was surprised that my voice was shaking with emotion. "This is just our last night in _Europe._ This doesn't end just because this press shit is over." She continued to stare back at me, strangely silent. "We can make this work, Kris. You said it yourself, we're professional liars. We can keep this secret. This doesn't have to end. It'll work if we both want it badly enough."  I waited for some response, an argument, an agreement, anything. "I don't want this to end, do you hear me? You said you loved me just a while ago, and I love you as well. I don't want this to be over." I was speaking softly, but the intensity in my voice surprised even me.

"You are such a good man." She sighed, pulled me closer and gave me a warm, deep and tender kiss. "And I _do_ love you." She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"It's not over. This is not our last night together," I insisted softly.

She shook her head silently in agreement, her eyes misting over with tears. She pulled me to her again, and I nestled my face against her chest. Her fingers played in my hair, and trailed lightly down my arm, sending chill bumps racing across my body.

Before I let myself drift off to sleep, I wondered what all the crying had really been about. We were both very capable of making this relationship work, of keeping it a secret if necessary, or even dealing with the press hysteria if we decided to go public. Something felt off, but I was just too damned exhausted to try and figure it out.

I woke in the middle of the night to find her side of the bed empty. I thought about going in search of her, but decided against it and rolled over back to sleep.

\--------------------------------------------

_**(-Tuesday, December 9, 2008-)** _

Something was buzzing, like there was a bee in the room. I listened groggily to the buzzing next to my ear, hoping it would go away, but it didn't. I slowly came awake and realized it wasn't a bee. It was my cell phone vibrating in circles on the nightstand. A pile of brown hair sticking up out of the sheets beside me told me that Kris had returned to my bed sometime during the night. I moaned and grabbed the phone, hoping to shut it off before it woke her.

I recognized Bella's number immediately. Shit. Shit. _Shit!_ I scooted out of bed as gently as I could and grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor. I tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the short hallway to the bathroom, pulling the jeans on with one hand and connecting the call with the other. "Hello? Bella?" I asked softly, hopping on one leg as I pulled my jeans up onto my hips.

_"Robert, you sound out of breath. Did I wake you?"_

"No, it's okay. Hold on a minute." _Where the hell should I take this call?_ I briefly thought about leaving the suite entirely, but dismissed that stupid idea as quickly as it came. That was all I needed was to be caught crouching, half dressed, in a shadowy hallway talking on my cell. The press would have a field day with that one. Since I was leaning against the wall across from the bathroom that room seemed like the logical choice. I shut and locked the bathroom door behind me and slid to the floor, my back against the tiles, my arms resting on my bent knees.

_"Is this a bad time?"_

"No, it's all right. I was just putting on some jeans. Is there something wrong?"

_"Oh, it's no emergency or anything. I just wanted to talk to you and I haven't heard anything from you for awhile."_

"I'm sorry about that. It's been really hectic here." The lie slid out so easily. I was such a dick.

_"I've been so worried about you since that last phone call. Are you okay?"_

"I'm really sorry about that. I was drunk. I shouldn't have even called you." And I definitely shouldn't have brought up the whole thing about living together.

_"Well, I've been thinking about that phone call...alot. And I've decided that I'll give it a try, if you were serious."_

I couldn't believe she was actually considering it. I stared at the tiled floor and tried to imagine what it would be like to have her with me all the time, to have her there after fourteen hours on set, to be able to leave all the shit behind and withdraw with her into our own little world at the end of every day, to know that no matter what happened during the day, comfort was waiting for me at home...with Bella. We could definitely work this out. We could do this.  And then my brain slammed into reverse. _What the fucking hell are you thinking?_ _You can't think about this shit! You just got through promising Kris that you'd keep seeing her! Are you totally, absolutely fucking insane? You have to stop this._

"I really think this is something we should talk about in person."

_"You're right. We need to. But, I just wanted to let you know that I'll consider it. I really will. I turn eighteen January the 5th, then I can do what I want. And if I want to be with you, then there's nothing anyone can do about it, is there?"_

I couldn't help but smile as I heard the stubborn defiance in her voice. My angry fuzzy kitten with the warm brown eyes.

"I'm probably not even going to have a place to live. I'm giving up my apartment because I'm going home to London for the rest of December and all of January, and pre-production starts on New Moon in February. I'm going to be living out of hotel rooms and that's not a very fun way to live, Bella, believe me."

_"All I need is my laptop and food and I'm good. And you, of course."_

"We'll talk about it when I get back."  Silence. I knew I shouldn't be prolonging this call, but goddammit, I didn't want to hang up. I wanted to hear her voice for a little while longer.

 _"I can't wait to see you."_ Another silence. _"I'm wearing the blue nightgown you bought me."_

"I wish I was there to see that." _What the fuck, Rob? Where did that come from? Can you not keep your fucking mouth shut?_

"Do you remember the night I wore it?"

I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut. Images flooded into my head of that night: the mirror, our hands moving together. "I remember," I whispered quietly. An intense twitch in my jeans reminded me that my dick remembered it as well.

_"It's not much fun doing that sort of thing alone."_

"It can be." _Did I just say that? What the hell are you doing, Rob?_

"My face is beet red right now."

Her small embarrassed laugh tugged at my heart. I remembered the pink tinges that flared in her cheeks during our particularly intimate moments. Kris never blushed.  "I think mine is too," I admitted as I felt the heat spread up my neck and over my face.

_"I have those little panties on that you like."_

Oh, God. I was suddenly rock hard, and squirming uncomfortably in my now too-tight jeans.

_"Robert, are you still there?"_

"Yeah," I whispered, dropping my head onto my knees. "I'm still here."

_"If you were here with me, what would you be doing right now?"_

Her voice was soft and low and seductive, and my mouth was like a damned open faucet that wouldn't shut off. "My hand would be down those panties." A throbbing ache and the chafing of my zipper had me stretching out my legs and rearranging things.

 _"Mmmm...that sounds nice."_ A soft sigh filtered through the phone and into my ear.

"What are you doing?" And then she told me what she was doing, in excruciating detail, her narration punctuated with sighs and moans and those beautiful whimpers she made. I tugged frantically at my zipper, and in a matter of seconds, my jeans were off and pushed down around my thighs. I needed to go to the bathroom, but I was damned if I fucking cared. My fingers curled around my dick and I started moving my hand slowly, closing my eyes and picturing her lying on her bed doing all the things she was telling me.

_"What are **you** doing?"_

"What do you think I'm doing?" I moaned and then laughed very softly. "The same thing you are."

_"Oh, Robert. I wish you were here."_

The next minutes were spent with me listening to her through the phone, listening to her soft whispering, the moans, the frantic heavy breathing. I pictured in my mind everything she told me: her fingers moving slowly over herself, and sliding inside, her thinking of me, imagining her fingers to be me. And all the while my hand moved steadily, squeezing tightly and then releasing, squeezing and releasing, my thumb occasionally brushing over the tip.  I hoped that Kris was still asleep down the hall. I needed to be quiet, but it was hard as hell to do. Breathless moans escaped no matter how hard I tried to hold them in. The fact that Bella was obviously trying to do the same only made the whole thing that much more erotic.

Then her breathing quickened, her moaning changed to soft but hoarse deep-throated groans. I missed her so damned much. I gasped raggedly through clenched teeth when I heard her cum, her soft high-pitched whimpers filtering across the miles that separated us. I imagined her body clenching around mine tightly; I imagined pushing her over a table and fucking her from behind as hard as I could, with her screaming and begging me to fuck her harder. A harsh moan, long and low and deep rose out of me as I came. I whispered her name as my hand continued to pump, squeezing every last drop, every last pulse of pleasure out of my body that I could possibly get.  When I finished, I leaned my head back against the tiled wall and gasped for air. Neither one of us said anything for awhile. We just listened to each other breathe across the miles.

_"I've never had phone sex before. That was different."_

I heard the laughter in her voice, and I wanted so much to be there with her, to be laying beside her, relaxing and running my fingers over her slim body.  "I haven't either," I admitted sheepishly. "But I thought it was pretty damned good." Then I heard a quiet beep in my ear.

_"My phone is about to die. Can you call me back?"_

I looked at the clock on the opposite wall. 8:27. Damn.  "I don't think I can. It's almost 8:30 here. I need to get started packing. We're leaving today. But I'll call you as soon as I get back in LA, all right?"

_"Okay. I'll be waiting for that call. I love you, Robert."_

"I love you, too," I whispered. "Goodbye Bella."

_"Bye."_

I shut the phone off and stared sightlessly at the ceiling, trying to gather the energy and the will to get in the shower. Eventually I made it, and turned the full force of hot, steaming water onto my body. I stood with my palms flat against the shower walls and my forehead resting on the tiles. The hot water beat down on my back and legs, stinging like thousands of needles piercing my skin.  Instead of feeling relaxed, guilt and shame washed over me with a crushing force that nearly took my breath away. Bella was such a good person: sweet, kind, open, down-to-earth and honest. The way I was treating her was unconscionable. Instead of enjoying the afterglow of our phone sex, I felt like crying, just giving in to the guilt and crying my fucking eyes out. I fought the tears back and swallowed down the bile threatening to rise up into my throat. As I stood in the shower with the water starting to run lukewarm against my body, I wondered when in the hell I had turned into a fucking player.

The plane ride home was horrible. After getting out of the shower and rousting Kris from bed, we both realized that we felt like shit. The exhaustion that had been plaguing us both had finally started to seriously kick our asses. We talked little and slept nearly the whole way home, at least as much as we could sleep considering that our legs were crumpled up underneath the seat in front of us. At some point during the trip, on an impulse, I grabbed her hand beneath the blanket. She held it, but never acknowledged it. I felt too damned bad to care. All I cared about at that point was getting home and sleeping in my own bed.

After a long ten hour flight, we finally arrived at LAX. When we'd left Paris it had been the 9th. When we arrived in Los Angeles it was the 10th. Times zones weren't good for anything but fucking up the normal workings of the human body. I knew before the day was over that we were all going to crash from sheer exhaustion.

With lots of moaning and complaining we dragged ourselves off the plane and plodded tiredly to the luggage carousel. Somewhere in the press of people I lost track of Kris. Cathy, however, was stuck to my side like glue, as was the Prick and other assorted Summit people. With my luggage stacked on a cart and my laptop and books tucked safely under my arm, we started making our way to the main exit. Photographers would be waiting. They always were.

As I made my way through the main terminal, I finally caught a glimpse of Kris about thirty feet ahead of me. I started to call out to her before we became inundated with press and people, but that was before I saw her start running. _Why the hell is she running?_ Then I stopped dead in the middle of the floor and watched her run straight to Michael. His arms closed around her. He picked her up off the ground and swung her around in a circle before depositing her back onto her feet. He kissed her; his hands moved over her back and down, the same places where my hands had been.  I couldn't breathe. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of my body, much like the time I'd fallen out of a tree in Hyde Park and had landed flat on my back. Like someone had sucker punched me while I was looking away just for a split second.

"Rob." Cathy was at my side. "You need to get moving. The photographers will be here any second. You don't want this on the front page of every magazine in the country. _Move!"_

Her words weren't registering at all. I was still staring at Kris and Michael who had now turned to leave, their arms draped around each other's waists. But before they totally left my line of sight, Kris turned around and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes searched the crowd. I knew she was looking for me. When her eyes found mine, even across the short distance, I could see the sadness in her expression, the regret. Our eyes held for just a few moments, and then she turned back around and was gone.

"Rob." Cathy tugged on my jacket. In a daze, I bent over to hear her. When she spoke, no one else could hear her words but me. "I'm so sorry. I know you're hurt and angry right now, but you have to get out of this airport. You're an actor and a damned good one, so put on your glasses, act like everything's fine and let's get the fuck out of here."

I looked at her and wondered just how the hell I was supposed to accomplish that. I wanted out of this building. I needed to go somewhere alone where I could deal with the rage that was growing inside of me. I called on every ounce of mental strength I had at the moment. I dug my sunglasses out of my pocket and put them on. I walked through the terminal surrounded by people, but feeling like I was totally alone. Photographers snapped my picture. Fans randomly moving through the airport called out my name. On autopilot, I smiled, shook a hand or two, signed an autograph here and there and eventually made it out the front doors and to the car.  No one had any inkling of the anger simmering inside of me, of the hurt I felt at that very moment. The photographs that appeared in the magazines and on the Internet showed a tired, but still smiling, Rob Pattinson returning from an extended press junket in Europe. A perfectly normal day in the life of a jet-setting actor.

Once inside the safety of the car, Cathy placed a hand on my arm. "I'm so sorry."

I wanted to scream at her to just shut the fuck up, but instead I turned away from her and stared silently out the car window.  I really needed to get home.  


[ROB AND KRIS IN PARIS (VIDEO)  
](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oz6H_qdQibA)

 

**KRIS AND I GETTING READY TO GO OUT AND "FUCK THE CAMERAS".**

 

**MAKING MY WAY THROUGH LAX. I LOOK LIKE EVERYTHING'S PERFECTLY FINE, DON'T I?**

 


	22. Nikki

_**(-Wednesday, December 10, 2008-)** _

Cathy kept murmuring her apologies and trying to offer advice the entire ride home from the airport. I ignored her. I couldn't concentrate on a thing she was saying anyway. I was too busy watching the same movie over and over in my head: Kris running to Michael, him swinging her around and kissing her, his hands on her, the two of them leaving together. The same damned movie stuck in a loop, and a soundtrack was playing in the background: Kris telling me she loved me, the sounds she made when we were together, her laughter.  Was I just rebound sex to her? Did she just turn to me for comfort? Convenience? Maybe it was just curiosity. 'Let's finally give old Rob a fuck and see what he's like.'

I leaned my head against the car window and stared at nothing. The cool glass felt good against my skin. I was incredibly tired and a headache was making its way into my temples. After awhile, I closed my eyes to the outside world, but the fucking movie was still playing. Anger simmered inside me. I was feeling an ever-growing need to hit something, to do some damage to something.

"Are you going to be okay alone?" Cathy touched my arm in sympathy.

I nodded silently. I didn't want to talk to anyone. The last thing I wanted was company. 

Cathy dropped me off at my apartment. The driver brought my luggage in and sat it inside the front door. After another round of assurances that I would be fine, they finally left, and I was alone. I leaned my back against the front door and took a few deep breaths, then made my way down the hall. My legs felt like they each weighed five hundred pounds. I was so damned tired and all I wanted to do was sleep, but I knew that movie was going to keep me awake all night without some help. I slung open the refrigerator door and was relieved to see two six-packs of beer on the top shelf. Not enough to pass out, but it would be a start. 

I leaned against the counter and downed nearly half of the first one in several gulps. I was just about to start on the second half of the bottle when my cell went off in my pocket. _Whoever the hell you are, I don't want to talk to you._ I checked the caller ID. Nikki. I cursed and ignored the call. That was the last thing I wanted or needed.  The second beer was almost gone when my phone rang again. Shit. It was Nikki again. I ignored it and continued to drink. Halfway through the third beer, another call. _Would you just leave me the fuck alone?_ I checked the caller ID.

Bella. As soon as I saw her number, the rage I'd been fighting to suppress finally erupted. I cursed and threw the phone as hard as I could against the tiled wall. The son-of-a-bitch fell apart into three pieces, skittered on the counter a bit, before finally sliding off and onto the floor. Now maybe I could have some fucking peace.  No such luck. A few minutes later my land line in the living room started screaming for attention. I rushed into the room, yanked the cord out of the wall and threw the phone as hard as I could. A chunk of sheetrock fell to the floor, along with the mangled phone.

I made my way back into the kitchen, grabbed the rest of the beer and slid to the floor, my back resting up against the cabinets, my last bit of energy gone with my short burst of temper. In the silence of my darkened apartment, I set about the task of trying to drink myself into oblivion. I made it through the fourth beer when the pounding on my front door began.

"Rob! I know you're in there! Open up!"

Fuck. It was Nikki. If I didn't answer maybe she'd go away. When the banging didn't work, she leaned on the doorbell, which made my head pound even worse. I closed my eyes and tuned it out. I just wanted to sleep. Why couldn't everybody just leave me alone?  Finally the banging and the ringing stopped. I sighed and began to drift off. I just felt so damned bad all of a sudden. What I really needed was to drag myself to the bedroom and crash there for a week, but just the thought of even trying to get up out of the floor was too overwhelming.

"Rob." A voice, very close by. I opened my eyes to find Nikki sitting against the cabinets opposite me. _What the hell?_   Then I remembered that she had her own key. What had I been thinking?  "Rob, what's wrong?"

"Go away, Nikki. Just leave."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked, confused as to how she even knew I was home.

"Cathy texted me. She said you were in trouble, and if I cared anything about you at all, I was to drop whatever I was doing and get here. Now tell me what's happened."

"I can't talk to you about this. Just leave. God, I feel like shit." I moaned and closed my eyes, praying that she'd just go away.  Suddenly I felt a cool hand on my forehead. It felt amazingly good, even better than the beer.

"Oh my God, you're burning up. You've got a fever." I heard her get up and soon the sound of cabinet doors banging made my head hurt even worse. "Don't you have any medicine in this place?" She sounded frustrated.

"In my carry-on." Talking was becoming an enormous effort.

She took the beer out of my hand and replaced it with a glass of water. "Here, take these. They'll bring down your fever," she instructed softly, offering me two tiny pills in the palm of her hand. "You need to go to the doctor."

"No. No doctor. I'll be fine. Just help me get to bed and I'll sleep it off. I just need to sleep."

Between the two of us, I managed to get halfway down the hall. Luckily, the wave of nausea hit me right outside the bathroom door. I lost all track of time as I crouched on my knees and vomited into the toilet, but Nikki was there with me the whole way, offering me water to rinse my mouth out, patting my back reassuringly, and then cleaning up after me.  When there was finally nothing left in my stomach to expel, she tried to get me up to go to the bedroom, but instead I sunk down on the floor and stretched out on my stomach. The cool floor tiles felt so good against my face. I drifted off to sleep to the feel of her fingers in my hair.

\--------------------------------------------

"Rob. Rob, honey…"

I opened an eye to see Nikki still sitting in the floor beside me. "Why are you still here?" I mumbled. "Leave, Nikki."

"You can't sleep in the bathroom floor. Let's get you to the bedroom, hon." After a lot of grumbling, she finally talked me into getting up and heading back down the hall. Once in the bedroom, she peeled off my clothes, because I complained of being too hot, and then she tucked me in bed underneath a cool sheet. If there was one reason to be thankful that I was sick, it was that the movie was no longer playing in my head. I fell asleep easily, all thoughts of Kristen, Michael and Bella gone, for the time being.

The next hours? days? were a blur. I'd wake up hot and throw the cover off me. Cool hands would stroke my face and tuck the sheet back around me. I'd sleep fitfully for a while, dreaming of Bella and Kris, and then awake with my body aching all over. I couldn't get comfortable in any position. Nikki rubbed my back and massaged my shoulders and legs, not that it had done any good, but it had felt nice. Then I'd doze off again, only to wake chilling and shaking with cold underneath the thin sheet. That was when Nikki would crawl in bed with me under a pile of covers and hold me close to her warm body. A glass of water would appear every now and then, not that I drank much of it. I'd just wanted to sleep.

This cycle continued for an unknown amount of time until I woke up one morning to bright sunshine and sheets soaked with my sweat. I took a quick inventory. The aching was gone, the lingering headache was barely noticeable, and I felt somewhat normal. My mouth was dry, my stomach was empty and hollow, and I was starving.

"Finally." Nikki sat on the side of the bed smiling. "Feel better? You look better, that's for sure. I think your fever finally broke last night."

"What day is it?"

"It's Friday, the 12th."

What? I'd been completely out of it for two whole days!

"I'll fix you something light to eat while you take a shower," she said, wrinkling her nose in my direction.

Weak, but alive at least, I stood under the hot water and scrubbed the sweat away, shaved, washed my hair, and after awhile emerged a new man. Nikki had a steaming bowl of soup waiting for me. I mumbled something about preferring a cheeseburger and French fries, to which she reminded me that I'd spent quite awhile hugging the toilet and we needed to make sure my stomach could tolerate food. She sat with me at my tiny kitchen table and watched me slurp soup like she was my mother.

"Thanks, Nikki, for taking care of me."

"That's no problem at all." She smiled and brushed my hair off my forehead, just like my mother used to do.  Then she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms very businesslike. "While you were sleeping and thrashing around in your bed, I cleaned your apartment, stocked you up with some munchies, beer and cigarettes, and unpacked two of your suitcases. I left the third one for you, by the way, to give you something to do. I did your laundry and dropped off your dry cleaning. Oh, and Allen Coulter called Thursday morning. I told him you were sick and he said if you could, come to his house Sunday for the audition. He overnighted the revised script to you. It's on the coffee table."

I didn't know what to say, especially since I'd ignored her calls, and had told her repeatedly to go away and leave me alone. Despite that, she'd stayed with me the entire time and had taken care of me, and did all this other stuff for me that she hadn't had to do. I felt incredibly guilty, not just for that, but also for the way I'd treated her from the very beginning of our relationship.

"I appreciate that. I just realized what an incredibly good friend you've been to me."

She smiled, obviously agreeing with me. "I also called Cathy. Seems quite a few of you came back from Europe with this nasty bug. Catherine, Dave, Kristen and a bunch of the staff came down with it. Cathy seems to have escaped unscathed."

I looked up at the mention of Kris's name. "Kristen's been sick?"

"Yeah. Like a dog," she snorted. "Worse than you, I think, to hear Michael tell it."

Michael and Kristen. At the mention of their names, all the shit from Europe came flooding back into my head and I suddenly lost my appetite.

"Now, are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked, propping her chin in her hand, waiting expectantly for my answer.

"Nothing happened," I insisted stubbornly, looking at my soup and contemplating my ability to choke down the rest of it.

"Yeah, right. 'Nothing' is the reason your cell phone is broken into three pieces and you're missing a one foot chunk of your living room wall, which is laying in the floor beside your telephone, which, by the way, is now in two distinct and broken pieces." She stared at me intently across the table. "Tell me, Rob."

"I can't talk to you about this." I sighed. "Just leave it alone. Please."

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, contemplating me with those piercing brown eyes of hers. "Something happened between you and Kristen, didn't it?"

I buried my face in my hands, and massaged my temples to avoid looking at her.

"I know you love her, Rob," she said quietly.

I looked up in shock.

"I've known about your feelings for her for a long time," she said, smiling sadly.

"And still you...?" I began. I left the rest unspoken. ... _slept with me?_

She shrugged. "You were lonely, I was lonely, and Kris wasn't available and wasn't going to be available any time soon. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

And then I told Nikki everything. "She came to me the second night we were in London." I told her that supposedly Kris and Michael had broken up on Thanksgiving, and that we'd slept together every night of the press junket, and that Kristen had told me she loved me the last night we were in Paris.

"And then at the airport, what does she do? She runs straight into Michael's arms. Right in front of me. She played me, Nikki, and I fell for it. I don't know why she did it. Was I just rebound sex? Or was it curiosity?"

Nikki sighed and shook her head. "I can't begin to tell you what was going on in Kristen's head, but I will tell you this. Her and Michael go through this stuff all the time. They break up and then they're back together. They break up and then back together. It's like they can't be together, but they're even more miserable apart. If I had known something like this was going to happen, I would have warned you, but I had no idea they'd even broken up. Kristen and I haven't hung out much lately."

"And that's my fault," I interjected.

She shrugged again. "Mine, too."

And since we were talking without screaming at each other, I decided to broach THE subject, the gigantic pink elephant standing right in the middle of my kitchen.  "Are you in love with me?" I asked. I held my breath as I waited for her answer. What the hell was I going to do if she said 'yes'?

She took my hand in hers. "I thought I was, at one time, but, no. I'm not in love with you."

I think every muscle, every nerve ending, every pore in my body sighed in enormous relief. Part of the guilt that was sitting on my shoulders suddenly lifted.

"You're such an easy man to fall in love with, you know that?" She smiled and squeezed my hand. "I probably could have fallen head-over-heels if I halfway tried, but..."

"But what?"

"But, I'm in love with someone else," she finished quietly.

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Really? Who?"

"Paris Latsis. I've been talking him for awhile now. Do you know him?" Her eyes lit up at just the mention of his name and her voice had gone all soft and gooey. _Yeah, she's in love. Thank you, God._

"No, I don't, but I'm happy for you, Nikki. I really am. Is he good to you?"

"Yes, and he's filthy rich, too." She laughed quietly. "But that's not why I love him. He's fun and he makes me feel safe, and wanted, like I'm the only girl in the world. Chicks like that, you know." She smiled fondly and patted my hand. "You have a way of making a girl feel that way, too." She bit her lip seductively and then chuckled low in her throat. "So, the benefits thing…uhm…we can't do that anymore."

"No, I guess not." I sighed, and then laughed with her. I was so relieved that she'd found someone and that I didn't have to worry about her anymore, that I almost forgot about the rest of it.  Nikki felt more like a friend at that moment than she ever had, and I thought we were at a point that she'd understand what I was about to tell her. I really needed to tell someone about Bella, and I could always trust Nikki to keep my private business private.

"The bad part about all this is that I gave up someone really special to be with Kris," I said softly, staring at nothing but seeing Bella's face in my memory.

"Oh my God, I knew it! I was right. There _was_ someone else. Who is she?"

"She's just an ordinary girl. I met her in a bar and we connected right from the start. She's not in the business. She doesn't even live in LA. Her name is...Abby...and I cheated on her with Kris."

The room went quiet as Nikki digested that information. "Does she know?"

"No. I haven't talked to her since that last night in Paris. I was supposed to call her as soon as I got back, but..." I didn't even want to consider what Bella was thinking about me right now. Even though I'd been sick, she didn't know that. How many times had she tried to call me on a number that was no longer working?  "I've fucked things up so bad with her. I don't think I can fix it."

"Well, since you haven't told her anything yet, I don't see what the problem is. Just don't tell her," she stated flatly. "Rob, honey, sometimes a woman doesn't want to know everything that's going on. Trust me on that. I just don't see why would you tell her, especially if it's over with you and Kris. What would be the use?"

"I can't lie about something like that!" I exclaimed, unable to believe that she was even suggesting such a thing.

She shrugged. "It's your decision, of course, but if I were in your place, I wouldn't tell her. Chalk all this up to stupidity on your part and focus now on her. If she's what you want, you can't let what happened between you and Kris ruin it."

Could I take her advice and just carry on with Bella like nothing had happened? I wanted to. I really wanted to, but could I do it? When it all came down to it, and I was looking into those trusting brown eyes, could I really lie to her? I had a lot of thinking to do, but first things first.

"Can you get me a new phone? I'd do it myself, but I'm not up to dealing with the paps today."

"Sure. You can use mine while I'm gone, that is, if there's someone you need to call." She smiled slyly and set her phone on the table beside me. "I'll be back later, and I'll pick up your dry cleaning while I'm out." I gave her money and all the information she'd need to get me set up with a new cell. She kissed me softly on the cheek and left.

I stared at Nikki's phone lying on the table by my hand. What in the hell would I even say to Bella if I called her right now? I was dying to just pick up the phone and call her that very minute, and just drown in the sound of her voice, but I didn't want to fuck things up worse than they already were. I needed to think first this time about what I was going to say,  _then_ call.

I got up from the table and went into the living room to check out the damage I'd done. Nikki was right. The chunk missing from the wall was about a foot in diameter. I sighed aloud at my own stupidity. I'd probably lose my security deposit, not that it mattered. I had more money than the Queen now. A laugh slipped out at that thought. My life was so surreal when I stopped to think about it for any length of time. I had a ton of money in the bank, and more to come with New Moon, and fame to go along with it all, and I was fucking miserable.

Then I saw the fat envelope lying on the coffee table. _Yes!_ A diversion was just what I needed to get my mind off the mess that was my life. I pulled the script out of the envelope and flipped through the first few pages just out of curiosity. Mr. Coulter had said it would be revised and he hadn't been joking. From the first page, I saw they'd changed the name of the film from Memoirs to Remember Me. Even some of the scenes were different from the first version. That got my creative juices flowing. I needed to compare the two scripts and see what changes had been made, then I needed to go over the key scenes in preparation for the audition, and then I needed to actually memorize one or two of them in case I was asked to perform one. But I needed the original script. Where was it?

I looked around my apartment and didn't see it anywhere. What had I done with it? Surely Nikki wouldn't have thrown it away. I thought back to the days before the trip to Europe. I remembered looking at it, and sitting it on my bedroom dresser, and then...

And then it hit me. I'd put it in one of my suitcases on the spur of the moment, just in case I had some spare time in Europe to look at it. As I walked back down the hall to the lone suitcase left sitting by my front door, I thought about how different things might have turned out if I'd just concentrated on work like I was supposed to. Maybe if I'd spent a little more time actually studying that damned script like I'd planned, I wouldn't be in the mess I was in now.

I undid the straps and flipped open the suitcase. The first thing I saw wasn't the script, though. It was an envelope, lying right on top of my clothes, with the Hotel Carillon's logo in the corner.  I just stood there and stared at it. Chills raced down my back at the sight of my name... _Rob._..scrawled across the front of it in Kris's messy handwriting. A letter. I gingerly picked it up, like it was a bomb that might explode in my hand any minute, and I carried it carefully across the room to the sofa. My mouth went dry as I pulled the papers out of the envelope and began to read. It was dated the 9th. Our last night in Europe.

_Rob,_

_By the time you read this you'll probably hate me, and I wouldn't blame you if you did. I couldn't get up the nerve to say what needed to be said to your face. I don't think I could have handled the hurt in your eyes. I'm a coward... I know. But I'm just not good at expressing my thoughts. You know that. I felt a letter would be better. I can think about things first and say what I really mean._

_I'm sitting in one of the wing-backed chairs in our hotel room watching you sleep as I write this. You look so peaceful when you sleep. So happy. I'm really sorry for what I'm about to do to you._

_Please know that everything that happened between us in Europe was real. I never lied to you about anything. Every touch, every word, every single thing we did together was real and the truth. When I told you that you made me feel special, I meant it. When I told you that I loved you, I meant that, too. I DO love you, Rob. Never doubt that. You really do have a way of making a girl feel like she's the most important person on the planet. I'm going to miss that._

_When I told you in Germany that I'd wanted you since the very first time I met you in the audition, that was the truth, but it was about more than just the sex. Every actor that came in before you was a complete failure. I knew they weren't Edward 30 seconds after they opened their mouths. They were all nice guys, but they weren't…right…somehow. But, when you walked into the room, my heart just melted. You looked so scared and shy and unsure of yourself. But it was when we started saying our lines and falling into character that I knew. You were the one...not just for Edward, but for me._

_Without even trying, you walked into my world that day and turned everything upside down. I didn't know how to handle it. I tried to ignore it at first. I hoped that one day I'd discover some horrible fault of yours and I'd be able to sigh in relief that I never acted on my feelings. But that never happened. If anything, I became more attracted to you the more time we spent together and the more I got to know you._

_Please believe that I'll never forget our time together. Those few short days meant more to me than you'll ever know. I was on a rollercoaster ride and I didn't want to get off, but I had to. Michael started texting and calling me almost nonstop the moment we touched down in London, begging for another chance. Truth be told, if you hadn't been in the picture, I probably wouldn't have walked away from him so easily. I would have fought harder to keep us together. But I wanted YOU. I know that makes me sound like some kind of heartless bitch, like I finally had the chance to fuck the man of my dreams and to hell with anyone else's feelings. But that's not what it was. You weren't rebound sex, Rob. My heart was aching for you long before Michael and I broke up. Michael knew something was going on between us, not necessarily physical, but he sensed he was losing my heart to you. He was losing me and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He was hurting as much as I was._

_Do you believe you can love two people at the same time? Before all of this, I would have said that was bullshit, but now I know it's not. It IS possible. I love you and I love Michael, just in two very different ways. Michael is a calming influence in my life. He helps me keep my feet solidly on the ground. Being with you must be what it's like to freefall out of an airplane. The rush of it is exhilarating, the freedom of it, the blood pumping through your body, pure adrenaline. But without that parachute, you're going to crash and burn in the end. Michael is my parachute, my lifeline, my safe haven from all this craziness._

_It's like you and I are adrenaline junkies. We feed off of each other. It's intense and volatile. We're too much alike. If we were to stay together, it would be a wild ride, but I'm not sure either one of us would come out better than we started. We're like a candle burning at both ends. When we finally met in the middle, there'd be nothing left. We're good together, Rob, but I don't think we're good FOR each other. I hope you understand what I mean by that._

_When someone is embedded in your soul, it's hard to forget them. I tried. I really did try to put Michael out of my mind. I wanted to focus completely on you and enjoy our time together, but everywhere I turned, something reminded me of him. I couldn't get the memories to leave me alone. Michael and I are not done. I thought we were, but I was wrong. I'm just so sorry that you got caught in the middle of us, and have been hurt because of it._

_I decided tonight to go back to Michael. I wish I'd had the courage to tell you that before we made love, but I didn't. I wanted to be with you one last time. (I'm such a selfish bitch, sometimes.) I really had a hard time making this decision, Rob. You can't imagine how hard. Both of you are really good men, but I had to choose. And just because I chose Michael doesn't mean you somehow didn't measure up. I've told you so many times how much I think of you, how much I admire you and love your company. I would have never made it through these past months without you. But I had to choose. It wouldn't have been fair to you to keep this going, knowing how I felt in my heart about Michael._

_I'm asking you now to forgive me. Not because we have to work together in the future, but because I can't stand the thought of you hating me. That would hurt worse than anything else. Please try to find it in your heart to forgive me. You're a good man. You're kind and genuine, qualities that are in short supply in Hollywood. And you have a big heart. Please find a spot in there for me._

_Nikki keeps insisting that you have a secret girlfriend that you're hiding from everyone. I thought she was full of shit until I asked you about it straight out. You can't lie, Rob. You're horrible at it. I saw it in your eyes. I believe you DO have someone else, someone that you care enough about to keep close, but still far enough away to be safe from all this hype. If that's true, cherish her. We both need people in our lives right now who can keep us grounded in reality. Michael does that for me. If she does it for you, then hold onto her tight with both hands. Please, please, please don't let what happened between us mess it up. I'm never going to tell Michael about us. He may suspect, but if he asks me directly, I plan on lying my ass off and taking the memories of our time together to my grave. You need to do the same. The guilt over what we did should be a burden for only the two of us to carry. Don't put it on anyone else's shoulders._

_All this rambling comes down to a few basic things. I love you. I want nothing for you but happiness. And I'm deeply sorry that I hurt you. Please forgive me._

_I love you always,_

_Kris_

 

I read it through once, and then again more slowly, and then one last time before folding it back and returning it to the envelope.

My God. She had been going through the same thing I had been the entire time: trying to forget Michael and pushing the memories away, just like I'd been trying to forget Bella, and both of us lying to each other through it all. She'd actually done us both a favor by going back to Michael, because, in hindsight, I could see now that it would have never worked. And she was right about something else, too: you _could_ love two people at the same time, just not in the same way. I knew that now.

Of course I'd forgive her. It was ridiculous for her to think I could ever hate her. Oh sure, I'd been mad as hell at her and incredibly hurt by what she'd done, but I could never hate her even if I tried. I also knew that I'd never forget her as long as I lived. No matter what life had in store for us, even if we were separated by continents with our work and didn't see each other for years, she would always have a special place in my heart and memory. And yes, I had to admit to myself, that I would always love her. Just, not like Bella.

Not for the first time, I wondered how I could have been so fucking stupid. What had I thinking to just throw away everything I had with Bella. But I knew deep down what had been to blame: that damned chemistry between Kris and I that everyone speculated about incessantly. It was there, no doubt about it, and we'd fought it as long as we could and would probably continue to fight it every moment that we were together in the future. Plus, I'd been thinking with my dick, which wasn't unusual behavior for me. I shouldn't have even gotten angry at Kris. It had been my idea, after all, to just have sex and get it over with, to see if there was anything there. But all that had been before Bella had come into the picture. If we just done it then, instead of waiting...

I sighed aloud in frustration and thought about getting back to work on the script, but I couldn't concentrate. What I wanted...no...what I _needed_ was to talk to Bella.

I went back to the kitchen for Nikki's phone and, without thinking, starting placing the call.  360 -

Then I drew a blank. I couldn't remember what came next. I'd had her number programmed into my speed dial and had never actually typed out all the numbers. But I did remember the last four: 0513, because that was my birthday. I wonder if Bella realized that? Maybe I'd ask her that question if I could ever remember her FUCKING PHONE NUMBER! My temper flared at the ridiculousness of the situation and at my own fucking stupidity for breaking my fucking phone which was my only fucking connection to her.

360...then something with a 3...then 0513. I went over and over it in my head but I just couldn't come up with a number. I took a deep breath to calm down. Losing my temper wouldn't help anything. _Think Rob!_ Did I write it down anywhere? Maybe in the phone book in the kitchen drawer? But when I pulled it out, it was almost like brand new. I'd never even opened the damned thing since it'd been dropped on my doorstep. There wasn't a handwritten number anywhere in the fucker.

I closed my eyes and thought back to that night, the night of the premiere. We'd spent some time in the bar, I'd driven her back to her hotel, and...then it came back to me. _Yes!_   She'd written her number on a piece of paper. I remembered sticking it in my pocket and when I got home, then I'd...what had I done? I'd programmed it into my phone, of course, but then what? What the fuck had I done with the stupid piece of paper?  I trotted down the hallway to the bedroom and looked around. Suddenly the memory of it flooded my mind like it was happening right that minute. I remembered being in a hurry. Cathy was yelling at me for running late. I'd programmed her number in and then laid the paper on the dresser.  But the dresser was now spotless, glistening with furniture polish and bare of the rubbish I'd had thrown on it these past months. Nikki.  Of all the times for her to turn into the merry maid. Maybe it was on the floor. But no, the floor was clean and I could actually see the color of the carpeting for once. The dust bin was filled with trash, so I dumped it all out onto the carpet and went through it piece-by-piece. Nothing.

Once down on the floor, I realized that the dresser didn't set flush with the carpeting. There was a gap all the way around. It could have fallen and gotten shoved up underneath! I stuck my fingers beneath the dresser and felt my way around it. I touched something, and it felt like paper. I stretched my hand as far underneath the wood as I could and finally was able to pull it out.   _Yes!_ The small piece of paper, now unfolded, with all the information on it I needed, lay in my hand.

_360-374-0513_

_Tell me your heart._

_Bella._

Without wasting any more time, and without even thinking what the hell I was going to say to her, I punched in the number. It rang once, twice. She should be picking up now, but it rang again, and again, and again. I let it ring forever before finally giving up and shutting off the phone. She wasn't answering. Maybe she was asleep. Or in the shower. Or maybe she just didn't want to talk to me.  Then I realized what it might be. I was using Nikki's phone, so maybe she wasn't picking up because she didn't know who it was! So, I called her again, without success. Then again. Then again. Maybe if I annoyed the hell out of her enough, she'd finally pick up.  The next time I tried, after the second ring, she finally picked up.

_"Who is this?"_

Her voice sounded like heaven to me.

"It's me. Robert."

 


	23. I'll Always Love You

_**(-Friday, December 12, 2008-)** _

 

_"Robert! Whose number is this? That's why I didn't answer. I didn't recognize the number."_

"I had to borrow a phone. Mine's broken." A long, uncomfortable silence.

_"It took you two days to borrow a phone? Do you have any idea how many times I've called and got an out of service message?"_

There it was. A tone I'd never heard in Bella's voice before: anger. I didn't like it.  "I'm sorry, Bella. I've been sick since I got home. Today's the first day I've even been out of bed."

_"Sick? Oh no! What was wrong?"_

"A bunch of us came back from Europe with a bug. The flu, maybe, I don't know. But, I was so out of it that two days went by and I didn't even know it. I'm really sorry."

_"Were you there by yourself? Did you have anyone to help you?"_

Shit. "Nikki was here."

_"Nikki? Nikki Reed?"_

Another long and uncomfortable silence. I had a feeling that Bella was seriously pissed with me, and I had no idea what to do to fix it.

"She's just a friend. She took care of me, cleaned my apartment, bought me some groceries..." My voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

_"Is this her number?"_

"Yeah, it is. Look, I'm sorry I didn't call, but I was sick and I couldn't, and I don't know what else to say." I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration.

_"All right. Apology accepted. So, when can you come up? This weekend?"_

"Actually, no, I can't this weekend. I have an audition Sunday and I need to spend tonight and tomorrow going over the script again. They've revised nearly the whole thing."

_"Is it for the one that's in New York?"_

"Yeah, Memoirs. Except they've changed the name to Remember Me. I really want this part, and as much as I want to see you, I need to stay here and bone up on it."

_"What about next week?"_

"See, that's the thing. We're working on the Twilight DVD next week. I have to work every day except maybe Friday, and on Friday I have some stuff to do to get ready to fly to London." Shit. Even to my dumb ass it sounded like I was doing nothing but making excuses. I could imagine what she was thinking. "I know it sounds like I'm just making excuses, but I'm really not. I have to work next week and I can't get out of it at this point."

_"No, it's all right. It's your job. I understand."_

"I'm flying out late Sunday, so maybe Friday night or Saturday I can swing up that way. How's that sound?"

_"Well, my parents will be here next weekend. That could be tricky."_

"We'll just go to your house, then. You can introduce me to your family." I heard laughter on her end and the tension finally went out of my body at that sweet sound.

_"No thanks. I've grown very protective of that cute butt of yours. My mom would want to grope it and my dad would want to kick it, and my little brother thinks you're gay."_

I smiled to myself listening to her giggle on the other end. "Are they really that bad?"

_"I swear, my whole entire family is off their rocker. I'd almost be ashamed to let you meet them."_

"Well, my family isn't perfect either. My mum and dad are all right, but it's my two sisters that muck the whole thing up." I smiled to myself just thinking about those two and their antics. I couldn't wait to get home to London.  "So, how's the book coming along?"

_"Great! Let me tell you what I've written so far..."_

I laid down on the bed and listened to her talk excitedly about her book. I added my two cents every now and then, but mostly I just closed my eyes and listened to her voice, and wished like hell I could get away sooner than next weekend. At some point my mind wandered off. What would I do when I actually saw her? Could I do what Nikki and Kris had suggested: lie, or if not lie, just forget to mention what happened in Europe? It was easy to do when you weren't actually looking at the person you were deceiving, but once I was face to face with her, or worse, when I was making love to her, could I still do it?  I had to. From the very beginning of our relationship, just the sound of her voice made me feel at ease. There was something soothing about her. I couldn't figure it out, and didn't know if I really wanted to. But one thing I did know was that I wanted things to work out between us. I had to do whatever it took to keep her, and if that meant lying...well...I'd just have to suck it up and do it.

_"So, what do you think?"_

"What do I think? I think you should have written the screenplay for Twilight instead of Melissa Rosenberg."

_"You're so silly, but I love you for saying that."_

"Seriously though, I do love you. You know that, don't you?"

_"Yeah, I know. And I like how that feels."_

The front door slammed and I heard Nikki toss her purse on the coffee table. "I have to go, but I'll call you later on tonight before you go to bed, all right?"

_"Sure, okay. I love you, Robert."_

"Love you too," I whispered, as I heard Nikki shut the door to the bathroom. I disconnected the call and then went back and deleted any trace of Bella's number in her phone. The last thing I needed was for Nikki to come across it and ring her up on a lark.

Nikki breezed into the room and plopped down on the bed beside me, her legs crossed in front of her. "I got your phone and your dry cleaning. So, did you make any phone calls?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow at me slyly.

"Yes, Nikki. I made a phone call."

"Did you tell her?"

"No, I didn't tell her. And even if I was going to, I wouldn't do something like that over the phone. Besides, I'm not going to tell her anyway...maybe. I don't know." I sighed in frustration.

"Rob." Nikki's voice softened. "Tell me about her."

"She's beautiful: long brown hair, big chocolate brown eyes, small and slim, and talented. She wants to be a writer and she should be, because the girl has a way with words." I smiled at the memory of some of those words, ones said in the light of day, and others whispered to me in the darkness. "And she's so down-to-earth. What you see is what you get with her. I can trust her. That's the really important thing. I can trust her. And for some stupid reason, she seems to like me."

"Rob, honey." Nikki laid her hand on my knee and squeezed. "You are so far gone. You need to lie your ass off and hold on to this girl. You hear me?"

I nodded. She gave me a big bear hug and then left, promising to call and check on me later.

I spent the rest of the evening absorbed in the script, only stopping long enough to take a few phone calls from friends and one from my agent, then Nikki checking up on me, and finally, Bella. I laid in bed in the dark and talked to her until she said she couldn't hold her eyes open any longer. I promised to call her tomorrow afternoon, and I promised I'd get up to Washington to see her before I left for London.

I was determined to keep those promises. I'd already broken way too many.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

_**(-Sunday, December 14, 2008-around 7:30 pm)** _

I hadn't been home an hour before the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole and saw Kristen standing outside nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Kris."

"Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course." I stood aside to let her pass. She headed straight for the kitchen and the refrigerator, grabbed a beer and hopped upon my kitchen counter to sit.

"Uh, just make yourself at home." I smiled and leaned against the counter opposite her.

"So, how are you feeling? That was some bug we had, huh?" she asked as she popped the beer open.

"Yeah." I chuckled, nodding. "I'm good. Tired, but good."

"I got the part. Joan Jett. I got the word yesterday." She was grinning for all she was worth. I was happy for her.

"I knew you would. Didn't I tell you? Greatest actress of our generation."

"What about yours?" she asked. "How'd the audition go today?"

"The part's mine if I want it, which I do. We just have to finalize everything."

Okay. The niceties were over with. _What do we talk about now? The weather?_ We both stared at anything but each other, me at the floor, her at her beer, both of us waiting for the other one to bring it up.

"Do you hate me?" she asked suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence and finally meeting my eyes.

"No. I could never hate you. Well, I take that back. I think I hated you for about two hours, but that was it."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

I stuck my hands in my pockets and sighed. "The letter helped. I'm glad you wrote it. It helped me understand what was going on with you."

"Writing that letter was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life." Tears were starting to pool in her eyes. She tried to wipe them away before they could escape down her cheeks, but one or two still made it.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I let it go. Then I decided to be honest with her. Nikki knew, so Kristen probably did, too. But just in case she didn't...

"You know, I was going through the same thing. I was trying to forget someone, and couldn't."

She pushed her hair out of her eyes and wiped her face. "Nikki told me. We're hanging out again, by the way," she said as an aside. "She said you really love this girl, this...Abby. Is that true?"

"Yeah, it's true."

She laughed softly in astonishment. "I think I'm actually jealous."

"Yeah? Well, join the club. I've been jealous of Michael since Day One."

"Well, this Abby, she's a really lucky girl. I hope she knows that," she said softly.

The jury was still out on that one, as far as I was concerned. I watched her finish off her beer, while she made a point of looking anywhere else but at me. We were both uncomfortable as hell, and we both knew why.  It was still there. That electricity that had been between us since the beginning was still there as strong as ever. The whole thing in Europe had done absolutely nothing to diffuse it.

Then she looked up at me solemnly. "You feel it too, don't you?"

I knew what she was talking about without even asking. I nodded, holding her gaze.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, her voice soft, but desperate.

"We're not going to do anything. We've both made our choices. We're not going to do anything. We're just going to leave it alone."

"And lie our asses off to both of them," she added.

"Exactly." Except one of us was better at lying than the other one.

She slid off the counter and stuck her hands in her pockets. "So, you really don't hate me?"

"No, Kris. I'll always love you, no matter what happens," I answered quietly. "Just not like her."

"And not like Michael," she whispered.

Finally, the truth had been spoken aloud between us. We loved each other, but not with the same depth that we loved Michael and Bella. We could probably start up a relationship again, but something would be missing for both of us. Michael and Bella gave us that certain something, whatever it was.

"I need to go. Michael's probably wondering where I am. I was supposed to be making a really quick junk food run. I'll see you tomorrow at the studio."

I smiled. "I'll be there, with bells on."

After she left, I spent two hours on the phone with Bella.

\-------------------------------------------

 

On Monday, Kris, Catherine and I worked all day at the studio on the DVD. As soon as I got home from work, I spent a couple of hours on the phone with Bella. Then dinner. Then after that, I spent the rest of the evening out on the town with friends, drinking and just hanging out.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were simply carbon copies of Monday. Thankfully, Kris and I were finished by Thursday afternoon with our portion of the DVD. We were both finally free and clear of every fucking thing Twilight related until after the end of January. We said our goodbyes in the parking lot of the studio, promising to keep in touch during the holidays and wishing each other a happy Christmas and all that other cheery stuff. I headed home and called Bella. She answered after the first ring this time.

_"Heeeey, Robert..."_

Her voice was sultry and seductive and raised chill bumps all over my body.  "Are you practicing for that 900 number job?" I laughed and her giggle on the other end only made me laugh harder.

_"Right. Like I have a future in phone porn."_

"Mmmm, don't underestimate your talents, babe." I chuckled. "It sounded pretty damned good to me."

_"Please tell me you're on a plane right now headed this way."_

"Uh...no. Sorry. But we finished up work this afternoon, so I'm done with this little Twilight gig for awhile. I have some stuff to do tomorrow to get ready for my trip to London, but I can see me flying your way early Saturday morning. How's that?"

_"Ugh. My parents are sticking around here this weekend like glue. I've been hinting that they need to get away for a few days and reconnect with each other...you know...all that Dr. Phil stuff about nurturing your marriage, but they're not biting."_

I smiled as I listened to her go on about her parents and tried to imagine her giving them unwanted marital advice. "Don't worry about it. We'll work something out."

_"All right, if you say so. What time will you get here?"_

"As early as possible. How about nine o'clock?"

_"Sounds good. I'll be there waiting for you wearing nothing but a parka and those little panties you love so much."_

"Oh, shit. I like the sound of that outfit."

We talked for another hour about everyday things: my work, her book, my family, her family, what we were going to do for Christmas—the kind of conversation that draws two people closer together as they learn more and more about each other. Finally, I was forced to say goodbye. I had a lot of things to do to get ready to fly out of the country on Sunday.

_"I love you, and I can't wait to hold you in my arms."_

"I love you, too."

 ----------------------------------------

 

_**(-Saturday, December 20, 2008-9:15 am)** _

Fifteen minutes late. I had considered many times during the past hour about telling John to push the pedal to the floor, but I wasn't sure if airplanes even had pedals and I didn't want to sound like a complete dumbass if they didn't. Something to do with the preflight check had delayed us getting started and had me dancing in my seat with impatience. I wasn't normally an impatient person, but I'd been away too long. I literally couldn't wait to see her.

I saw the little black Audi from the air as the plane circled to land. When I exited the plane, she got out and came around to lean against the side of her car to wait for me. I could see her smiling widely even from across the runway. I smiled, too, and broke out into a trot, closing the distance between us in a few seconds.  She squealed and laughed as I scooped her up in my arms and spun her around. I set her down and leaned her back against the car, holding her face in my hands and just looking at her. It was cold and her cheeks were turning pink from the wind. Her breath looked like smoke billowing around her face, her eyes, so deep and warm and brown. And her mouth...

"Hey," I whispered.

She smiled. "Hey, yourself."

"I like your ride." I grinned.

She smiled, blushed, and then kissed me hard on the mouth, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck, and with that one kiss, I felt like I was home, like I was where I was supposed to be. How in the hell had I thought I belonged anywhere else but with her?  That hard kiss quickly softened into a bunch of tender, lingering ones. It didn't matter that we were both freezing our asses off. The heat of our mouths was doing a perfectly fine job of keeping us warm at the moment.

"Robert," she murmured against my mouth. "I'm freezing. Let's get in the car."

"What about all that 'love washing over me like a cold mountain stream' stuff?" I asked, chuckling.

"I'd rather it wash over me right now in my warm and toasty car."

Once inside, our mouths found each other again. I pulled the zipper of her coat down slowly and snaked my hand inside, expecting to feel nothing but skin, but instead getting a handful of something thick and fuzzy.  "Hey." I frowned playfully and pulled away from her. "What happened to wearing nothing but panties and a parka?"

She laughed. "It's thirty degrees out there. Get real."

I buried my face in her hair and spent a lot of time kissing her neck to a chorus of soft giggles. "So, what are we going to do today?"

"Hmmm...well...there's this motel just up the road." She gasped softly as my tongue brushed over her ear.

"I like the sound of that."

We finally pulled apart long enough for her to drive the couple of miles to the motel. It was small and all on one level, a low brick building with shuttered windows and a red neon sign announcing to all passersby that there were vacancies. We backed into a spot toward the end of the building, far away from the office. Bella took the money I offered her, and with a seductive smile went to pay for the room. I slouched down in the seat. It wasn't like there were paparazzi hiding behind every bush. In fact, it looked like we were only one of two inhabitants having need of a bed at nine thirty on a Saturday morning, but old habits died hard.

I slid my cold hands underneath her coat as she attempted to unlock the door to our room. She squealed softly and wiggled away from me, laughing and nearly dropping the key in the process. We finally made it into the room, hurriedly shutting the door to the cold wind outside. She shrugged off her coat and tossed it onto a small round table that stood by the window. I quickly pulled mine off and threw it over a chair. We both gave the room a quick once over. It was decorated in Classic Cheap Motel: mediocre furnishings, generic landscapes hanging on the walls, and threadbare carpet. A huge king-sized bed dominated the room.

Bella smiled and nudged me up against the door, her knee finding its way between my legs. We both moaned as we kissed and let our hands roam free. I was hard and aching for her within a matter of moments of feeling her body pressed up against mine.

She tugged me by my shirt toward the bed. "It's no Hotel Carillon, but it'll get the job done," she breathed against my mouth. My whole body went rigid as she continued to lay soft kisses across my jaw and down the side of my neck. "I saw pictures of that hotel on the Internet," she whispered as her tongue flicked inside my ear. "It looked so romantic. You don't know how much I wanted to be there with you." She groaned softly. "I fantasized about it."

Hotel Carillon. As soon as I heard those two words, all the guilt that I'd thought I had successfully pushed to the background came rushing back to the surface with suffocating force, and nothing deflates an erection quite as effectively as guilt. I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of that room and away from her, because if I stayed, I knew what was going to happen.

She finally noticed my sudden lack of response. She pulled back from me with a puzzled frown and searched my eyes for a clue to whatever was wrong. "You don't like the room," she stated flatly. "We can go somewhere else."

"It's not the room," I answered. My voice sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else, someone I didn't recognize.

"I know you're used to fancier places. Really, we can go somewhere else. I don't mind. I just suggested it because it was close by." She made to cross the room and get her coat, but I grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"It's not the room."

"Then what is it?" she asked hesitantly.

I let go of her arm and studied her. Her hair was shining, and static from the dry air had strands of it clinging to her face. I hadn't noticed before now, but she was wearing snug fitting jeans and a fuzzy blue sweater that was bulky, but still managed to show a hint of the curves that lay underneath. There wasn't a bit of make-up on her face. She didn't need it. Her lashes were thick and dark without a hint of mascara. The blush on her cheeks didn't come from a compact, but from the cold outside air. Her mouth may have had gloss on it earlier, but if it had, I'd kissed it away long ago. But it was her eyes that drew me in, just like they had that night at the premiere. Those huge brown eyes. So warm. And they were staring at me in confusion, waiting for an answer.

"What is it, Robert?"

_'You're so far gone, Rob. You need to lie your ass off and hold on to this girl.'_

_'The guilt over what we did should be a burden for only the two of us. Don't put it on anyone else's shoulders.'_

_'What are we going to do, Rob?...Lie our asses off to both of them...'_

Kris and Nikki's words echoed inside my head. I wanted more than anything to take their advice.  _Do it, Rob. Lie! Just tell her you'd like a nicer room. Just laugh and tell her you're a stupid, spoiled movie star who needs to be surrounded by luxury. Just laugh it off and lie._ But when I opened my mouth, that wasn't what came out.

"I need to tell you something," I said instead.

"Okay..." she said softly, her brows pulled together in a confused frown.

_What the fuck are you doing? Lie!_

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I probably looked like a brainless idiot to her, but I couldn't gather the courage to say the words, because I knew that once they were spoken, it would be over. She'd never forgive me.

"You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

It's always better to just run and dive in the pool head first. Sliding in little-by-little off the edge only drags out the discomfort of the cold water inching its way up your body. So, I dove in, head first.  "I slept with Kristen in Europe," I blurted out into the silence of the room.

Her eyes went wide as the impact of my words sunk in. A choked sound escaped her throat.  "What?" she gasped.

I wasn't going to repeat it. I knew she'd heard me. Her eyes filled up with tears. She brought a shaking hand to her mouth as the choking sounds grew louder. I slid my eyes away from hers and to the floor. I couldn't stand to watch her fall apart. As a result of my cowardice, I didn't even see the blow coming. She hit me... _hard._..with the flat of her hand, her ring busting my lip and sending the copper taste of blood pouring into my mouth.

"You son-of-a-bitch," she growled, her jaw clenched in anger. I felt blood trickling out of the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and hazarded a quick glance at her.  "You lying son-of-a-bitch!" she yelled.

"I'm sorry." That was all I knew to say. There was no defense I could put forward to excuse what I'd done.

The room went quiet except for the sound of her anger. I never knew that anger had a sound. She was breathing heavily as if she'd just gotten through running a marathon. The strangled, choking sounds occasionally reappeared in between her heaving breaths, and she was crying now. Such soft and pitiful crying. I'd never in my life hurt anyone like that. It was horrifying and something I'd never forget.

"It was just one night," she said. She meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement, like she was trying to convince herself that something was true when she knew in her heart it wasn't.

I looked right at her, and she knew the answer without me even saying it aloud. No, Bella. It wasn't just one night. It was every night we were together.

She made a strange sound, almost a growl. Once again, I was unprepared for the depth of her anger. With both of her hands, she shoved me back into the wall and then hit me across the face again. I grabbed her wrist before she could hit me for a third time.

"Stop hitting me!" I yelled, although she had every right to.

She jerked her wrist from my hand and backed away from me. I watched the anger drain slowly out of her, and what was left was even worse.

"You said you loved me, that you needed me in your life." She spoke softly now in a small defeated voice, and that hurt worse than the sting of her hand on my face. "It was all lies."

"No, Bella, no. Everything I said to you was the truth. I _do_ need you and I _do_ love you."

"Bullshit! That's just pure bullshit!" she yelled. Tears were streaming down her face now and she was making no attempt to stop them or wipe them away.

I didn't know how to fix this. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you won't believe me, but if I could take it all back I would. If I could make it so it never happened I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"Oh God!" she blurted out suddenly with a horrified expression. "When you called me that night, and you were drunk, you were... oh my God." Her hand flew over her mouth to keep the sobs from escaping. Then she pulled it away and moaned. "And that last night when I called you and we had...on the phone...oh my God, you were with _her!"_

"It wasn't like that, I swear! She wasn't with me in the room!"

"She didn't have to be!" she screamed. "You were still with her! Oh God, _I hate you!_ You're nothing but a liar and a cheat!"  She grabbed her coat violently off the table and put it on, tears still pouring down her face. "This shit may be all the rage in Hollywood, Robert, but nobody treats me like this! And when I look at you right now, I don't even see Robert Pattinson anymore. I just see a liar and a cheater!"

She grabbed her purse and headed toward the door. I grabbed her arm as she went by me.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, struggling to get loose from my grip. "I want you the fuck out of my life! Don't call me! Don't try to get in touch with me in any way! _EVER!"_

"Bella..." I said, still holding on tightly to her arm. She wasn't going anywhere until I said what I had to say. "I'm truly sorry. And I'll always love you. Remember that."

She jerked her arm violently out of my grasp and stormed out the door, slamming it viciously behind her. I listened to her slam the car door, start the engine and rev it up in anger. When she spun out of the parking lot, sending gravels flying against the outside of the room, I flinched. As I heard the sound of her car dying away in the distance, a big part of me died with it.

I leaned against the wall for a long time and just stared at the floor. Why the hell hadn't I just lied? Why did I have to be so goddamned honest? People lied all the fucking time in this world to get what they wanted and to hold on to it, and it never seemed to bother them.

I dug my cigarettes and lighter out of my back pocket. I was shocked to see my hands shaking as I tried to hold the trembling flame to the end of the cigarette, and it wasn't just my hands. I was shaking inside, falling apart little by little. The nicotine only helped the physical jitters. It didn't do anything for the emotional damage I was suffering.  I crossed the room to the bed and sat down on the edge and smoked my cigarette. I felt like I should be crying or something. Screaming or maybe ramming my fist through a wall, but I didn't feel like doing any of those things, and that was what scared me. I didn't feel anything.

After I finished my cigarette, I stubbed it out in an ashtray and paid a visit to the bathroom. I splashed icy cold water from the faucet on my face and rinsed the blood out of my mouth. I leaned both hands on the counter and stared at myself in the mirror. What did all those screaming girls see when they looked at me? Hair that looked like it'd never been combed, but somehow came across as sexy. A clean shaven, clearly defined jaw line that some had described embarrassingly as jaw porn. Blue-green eyes that seemed to change colors at will, a trait that mystified everyone in my family. A slightly crooked nose that didn't seem to bother anyone but me. A nice smile when I wanted to flash it. Overall, the effect could be described as handsome. I supposed that when those girls looked at me they saw a nice looking man, but what I saw staring back at me in the mirror was a liar, and a man who had cheated on the sweetest girl he'd ever hope to meet in his life. If those screaming girls only knew...

I turned away in disgust, whipped out my cell and called John. He was surprised to discover that he was not only not spending the night as planned, but also that he was leaving almost as soon as he'd gotten here. I gave him directions to the motel and he promised he'd pick me up in his rental in a few minutes. I spent the time waiting thinking about Bella and what I'd stupidly let slip through my fingers. I didn't even want to think about what she was going through, and all because of me.

John picked me up and within minutes we were in the plane getting ready to fly out. He stuck a cigar in his mouth as he went about checking whatever it is that pilots check before taking to the air. I just wanted him to hurry the hell up and get me out of there. Finally, he announced he was ready. I fastened my seatbelt and laid my head back against the headrest.

"I won't need your services any longer after today. I'll have my financial guy give you a bonus for ferrying my ass around and inconveniencing you this close to Christmas," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion.

He made some incomprehensible sound, and then, "That's a shame. She seemed like such a nice girl."

"She _is_ a nice girl," I said quietly. "It's _me_ who isn't nice."

I watched out the window as the landscape of Washington faded into the distance. It'd be a long time before I ever saw those mountains again, if ever, and it'd be an even longer time before I forgot the girl who lived within sight of them.

**ME AND SHANNON WOODWORD OUT AND ABOUT IN BEVERLY HILLS ON WEDNESDAY. THE PRESS CLAIMED SHE WAS MY NEW MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND. MY FRIEND ANDREW WASN'T AMUSED. SHE'S _HIS_ GIRLFRIEND. LOL  
**

 

 


	24. Goodbye Los Angeles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rob's drastic haircut in December of 2008 always puzzled me. He could have just gotten it trimmed, but he didn't. He shaved it down almost as far as it could go. Why did he do that? Maybe he was simply tired of fooling with it and wanted an easy hairstyle he didn't have to maintain while he was home in London. Maybe he did it thinking it would make him less recognizable. Maybe that's all it was. But somehow, I felt there was more behind it. Rob gave us a hint in one of his more obscure interviews as to how he felt about all the hoopla over his hair: he didn't want it to become his trademark. All of what follows is my imagination, of course, but I've taken an author's liberty and linked the timing of the haircut with his emotional state after his breakup with Bella.

\--------------------------------

Why is it that when you don't give a shit about whether you live or die, airplanes always arrive safely at their destinations? And when you have everything to live for, they plow into the dirt and kill your ass deader than four o'clock?  I could only be so lucky. Unfortunately, John deposited me gently onto the runway at Hawthorne Municipal Airport in his little toy airplane two hours later. I was back in LA safe and sound. The teenage girls of the world could now breathe a sigh of relief.

The first thing I did was call Cathy and beg her to send a car to pick me up. I wasn't in the mood to take a taxi or deal with the paps. She readily agreed, but not before dropping a bombshell on me.

"Your new car's waiting for you at your apartment."

New car? What? I wracked my brain for the details, but the gray stuff in my head was sluggish to respond.

"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you? I swear. For someone who's so on-top-of-things and professional when you're working, you are totally clueless the rest of the time. If you want to see the sun, honey, you have to pull your head out of the darkness of your ass once in awhile."

"Thanks for the advice, Cathy. I'll be sure to remember that in the future," I remarked snidely.

"Don't you remember mentioning that you wanted a silver Audi, an A4 Cabriolet convertible, to be exact? You ask me to take care of it? Hello? Is any of this coming back to you?"

An A4 Cabriolet. Bella's car. It was coming back to me now. I'd been so impressed with her little black ride, I'd decided to buy one for myself, except in silver. But that was weeks ago. I'd forgotten all about it with everything else going on in my life. "I remember now. That was ages ago. What took you so long?"

"Well, they had to special order it. Nothing I could do about that. Your financial guy took care of all the details, except for a few papers you have to sign."

"How much did this car set me back?" I asked.

"It's a lease. You paid a few thousand up front, and then a year's payments in advance. Don't worry, you're not headed for the soup line just yet."

"You do realize that I'm leaving for London tomorrow. What the hell am I going to do with this car?"

"Well for starters, you're going to zip around LA in it today and tonight and enjoy the hell out of it, and then, I suppose, you can either put it in storage or ship it to London with you."

Like I needed a car in London. I either walked everywhere I went, or took the Tube. I could put it in storage, but that sounded like a hassle and I wasn't in the mood for anything complicated today. "Thanks, Cathy. I appreciate it and I'm sorry I forgot all about it. I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"Are you all right? You sound, I don't know, like something's wrong."

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me. By this time Monday, I'll be better than I've been in over a year."  I couldn't get out of this fucking city fast enough.  
  
After we disconnected, I called Nikki. Surprisingly, she picked up.

"Hey, Rob!"

"Nikki, I'm glad you answered. Are you busy this afternoon?"

"Uhm, no. I was thinking about going shopping later, but I could be talked out of that if you have something better in mind."

"I need to pick up some shipping crates to pack some stuff for London. I thought you might want to keep me company."

"Wow...uh...that sounds like tons of fun, but, I think I'll stick with the shopping."

"I have a new car," I teased. "And it's a convertible..."

"Really? Well, I guess the shops will still be there tomorrow. Are you going to pick me up?"

"How about you meet me at my apartment in....oh...let's say, two hours?"

"I'll be there. What color is it? I want to make sure my outfit matches the car."

Only Nikki and her predictable shallowness could have coaxed a laugh out of me in the mood I was in. "It's silver. Practically everything goes with silver. Don't worry about clashing."

After we disconnected, that brief moment of brevity disappeared and the heavy, dark cloud of depression descended again. I stared impassively out the car window at the passing landscape. It was nothing but miles of barren, flat land. But in my mind, I was seeing snow-capped mountains and a bridge spanning a cold, rushing stream. Acres and acres of tall hardwoods, instead of the low scrub that dotted the side of the road we were now traveling on.  Suddenly, a lone building sped by my peripheral vision. There one minute, gone the next. The details of it were lost in a blur as the car sped onward to LA. But one detail hadn't escaped my attention. A barber's pole.

"Hey!" I yelled to the driver up front. "Turn around! Go back to that building we just passed!"

The driver, paid to do what he was told, stopped the car without question and headed back the way we'd come. At my direction, he pulled into the gravel lot of a barbershop. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a small mobile home set up as a business. A lone car was parked at the end of it. What luck. I seemed to be the only customer.

"I'll be right back," I assured the driver.

When I walked in, the man whom I assumed to be the barber, was relaxing in a chair reading a magazine. He greeted me warmly and gestured toward one of two chairs in the small room. He draped a cover over me and took a minute to study my head.

"Nice hair you got there. Looks like Hollywood hair. I'm not so good at the fancy stuff, just want you to know that up front," he explained, matter-of-factly.

"That's perfect, because I don't want fancy stuff. Give me a buzz cut. About an quarter inch long all over," I stated. Again, the sound of my voice was unrecognizable to me. like someone else was inhabiting my body at the moment.

"You're in luck then," he said with a laugh. "Because that happens to be my specialty." And then he got to work. In a few minutes he was done. An embarrassing amount of bronze hair lay scattered on the floor beneath the chair, and what was left on my head was now my natural color of blondish-brown. The barber was waiting patiently for me to voice my approval or disapproval.

"Fucking beautiful," I whispered as I looked at myself in the mirror. That annoying mop of shit was finally gone. I was probably going to catch some flak from Summit for it, but right then I didn't give a rat's ass. I was making a statement.

I tossed a fifty dollar bill on the counter as I left. He argued that he couldn't accept a bill that big, to which I laughed and told him to keep the change, and that he deserved it, because he'd done one hell of a good job.  
  
Back in the car and speeding toward LA, I felt a little better. I was a long way from normal, but at least I'd done something. I'd taken some small bit of control back from the twisted mess my life had become the past year. I rubbed my hand across my head and smiled. My hair felt like a scrub brush, but I didn't care. When you started to become known only for the hair that God graciously gave you when you were born, it was time for it to go.

An hour later, after an agonizingly slow crawl through the congested streets of LA, I finally arrived at my apartment. The silver Audi was parked out front, all shiny and glistening in the sun. Nikki was leaning against it smiling just as brightly, her eyes hiding behind dark and fashionable sunglasses.

As soon as I got out of the car, her smile disintegrated. "What the hell happened to your hair...and your mouth?" she gasped.

"I cut them," I answered absent-mindedly. I was too preoccupied with the one-ton shiny hunk of silver metal she was leaning against to worry about her reaction to my hair or my swelling lip.

My first real car. A ridiculously juvenile sense of pride swept through me as I stared down at it. I'd lived on my own since I was eighteen. Starred in a few films. Finally banked a few million dollars as a result, but it was this shiny new car that made me feel like a man for the very first time. A tangible and highly visible sign of my success. I wondered briefly what had become of my little BMW, but my curiosity didn't last long.

Nikki ran a finger seductively down the rear side panel. "Niiiiice...." She walked around the back of it, reached down into the front passenger seat and tossed me the keys. "It was unlocked. I found the key and put the top down for you." She grinned and then peered into the back seat. "Pretty roomy back there for such a little car."

I glanced at the backseat and the memories came rushing back. Me crawling between the two front seats, trying to squeeze my six-foot frame into that deceptively small space. Bella laughing and reminding me I could have just used the doors.  
  
"Just don't try to make out in the backseat," I said softly.

"What?" Luckily, Nikki hadn't heard my comment, and I wasn't about to repeat it for her.

"Nothing," I mumbled. I opened the front door and slid in behind the wheel. Nikki joined me on the passenger side. I studied the dashboard, trying to figure out where all the controls were. Then I keyed the ignition and started her up. She purred like a kitten, a very powerful kitten.  
  
"Makes you feel sexy, doesn't it?" Nikki laughed, glancing sideways at me. I felt a smile coming on.

"Yeah, it does."

"You know, there's tons more cars out there that will make you feel even more sexy," she said. "A Jag, for instance."

"I'll keep that in mind for future reference, but for right now, let's go get these crates and then make a stop at the liquor store. I'm getting seriously fucked up tonight. Want to join me?" I asked, smiling in her direction.

"Sure, why not? I'll celebrate with you. Paris is out of the country until Sunday night, so I'm game."

Little did she know it wasn't a celebration at all. She'd just agreed to be the one and only exclusive guest at the Robert Pattinson Farewell Los Angeles Pity Party.

I pressed the clutch, and put the car in gear. "Let's see what this bitch can do." I grinned and then peeled out onto the street to the sound of Nikki's laughter.

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"You have such a beautiful ass, Nikki." I sighed in appreciation. "Did you know that?"

We were back at my apartment and fully stocked with enough liquor to make everything right with the world. She was sprawled in a chair across from me, her bare feet propped up beside mine on the coffee table. She was clutching her half empty liquor bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  She laughed drunkenly and let her head fall back against the chair.

"Did you know..." I continued, pausing to take another drink from my nearly empty bottle of tequila. "...that my dick noticed it before I did?"

That got her attention. "What?" she snorted, raising her head again.

"Yeah, my dick spoke to me that day. He pointed...right in your direction... and said...'Rob... _dude._..get a load of that ass. Man, I have got to have me some of that.'" I took a draw off my cigarette, blew the smoke towards the ceiling and laughed.

She stared at me in silence for a few moments, and then she busted out laughing. "Your dick.. _talks._..?!" she sputtered.

I grinned. "Hell yeah. Dicks talk. You'd better believe they do, and mine talks its head off all the damn time." At my completely unintended pun, we both broke out in hysterical giggles.

But somewhere inside my head, that serious voice that always pops up to spoil all your fun, was whispering to me through the laughter: _If you'd quit listening to the motherfucker your life wouldn't be such a mess, now would it Rob?_ We finally laughed ourselves out and just stared at each other in silence for awhile as we smoked and drank.

"Some nice tits you got there, too." I grinned and pointed my bottle in her direction. "Just the right size...and real. That's what makes 'em so great. God, I despise fake tits." I sighed expansively.

"Really?" she asked with a frown. "And I was thinking about getting some, too." She was holding one of them in her hand right now, inspecting it like it was a cantaloupe in the supermarket or something.

"Naw, don't do that." I groaned. "Then they'd be so fucking big that guys wouldn't be able to see that big 'ole heart you're hiding behind them."

She looked at me then with those big, brown eyes, and they went all soft and shit.  "Awww, that's so sweet, Rob," she crooned softly.

"What?" In my drunken fog, I'd missed whatever the hell I'd said that was so sweet.

"You said I have a big 'ole heart." 

"Well, you do," I acknowledged. "It's just, sometimes, us guys have a hard time getting past the ass and tits to even notice a girl's heart." And while my mouth was just spewing forth stupid romantic shit, I decided to add some more to it. Damned tequila. "I'm glad I finally noticed yours."

"Awwwww." She sighed sweetly and then took a drink, her brown eyes still staring dreamily back at me. "So, do you want to?" she asked hesitantly.

"Want to what?" I sighed, finally finishing the last of the bottle. I put out my cigarette out, crossed my arms across my chest and stared blankly back at her with a slight frown. The brain wasn't firing on all cylinders at this point.

"Have sex. One last fuck. Want to?" she asked softly.

I was just drunk enough to consider it, but my dick was strangely silent for once. "No, Nikki, I don't," I said quietly. "You're in love, and I'm not going to muck that up for you, and neither are you. So just forget about that idea."

She sighed and put out her cigarette, finished off her bottle, and then we both fell silent. When I closed my eyes, everything spun like a merry-go-round, which set my stomach to churning. So, I kept them open, but stared at nothing. The shit I was seeing in my head wasn't going to go away no matter how much tequila I drank or whether my eyes were opened or closed.

"Now Bella. _There's_ a girl that makes my dick sing the Hallelujah Chorus." I sighed with regret into the stillness. As soon as I said the words, I realized what I'd done, but it was too late to put them back in my stupid drunkassed mouth.

Nikki stared at me intently. "Bella?" she asked, obviously confused. "Who the hell is Bella?"

"Abby, Bella, same person." I laid my head back against the sofa. "Her first name is Isabella, but she goes by her middle name, Abigail...Abby for short."

"Are you serious?" she asked, still frowning. "Her name is really Bella?"

"I'm the only person who calls her that," I said quietly.

Then she laughed, a small ironic laugh. "Do you know the odds of you meeting a girl named Bella and falling in love? Oh my god, Rob. That is so fucked up."

"Tell me about it," I said. "But it doesn't matter now, anyway."

Her eyes widened as the truth finally dawned on her through the alcoholic fog. "This is no celebration. You told her, didn't you? "

"Yeah, I told her this morning when I went up to see her. I just couldn't do it, Nikki. I went up there with intentions of lying my ass off, but I just couldn't do it." I touched my fingers gingerly to the corner of my mouth. The sting of her slap, and her ring slicing across my lip, was still fresh in my memory. "She knocked the shit out of me... _twice._..and would have a third time if I hadn't stopped her. Then she told me to get the fuck out of her life and never to call her again."

"I'm so sorry," Nikki said, her voice so soft I could barely hear her. "Why did you do that? I told you not to. God, I'm so sorry."

"Don't feel sorry for me." I chuckled bitterly. "I'm just back to where I started a year ago. Alone. But, I'm used to being alone. I'm probably the only person on this planet who can stand my company for any length of time anyway. Let's face it, I'm just not a good boyfriend."

"You're being too hard on yourself, and you are going to make someone an amazing boyfriend. You just need the right girl," she said softly.

_This romantic sentimental shit is starting to get depressing. Drunks are supposed to be happy and laughing, right?_ "Yeah well, I'll get along just fine with my right hand, like I always have." I laughed and tried to lighten things up. "Now if I ever break my hand, that's when you should worry about me. I've never been very good at jacking off with my left. It's kind of awkward."

My voice trailed off into silence. Nikki wasn't laughing. In fact, she had tears pooling in her eyes, big fat fucking tears that were going to start pouring down her cheeks any moment, and that was when I realized something was horribly wrong with me. This breakup with Bella had done something indescribable to my emotions. It was almost like I was empty inside. Dead. Damaged. Life imitates art. And Nikki could see it as plain as day. I sensed what she was going to do even before she got up from her chair and groped her way towards me.

"Nikki, don't. Don't come over here. Stay the hell away from me," I growled, through clenched jaw. But she kept coming, until she was sitting beside me. She pulled my stiff, unwilling body into her arms and held on tight. Those god damned tears were pouring out of her now and wetting the front of my shirt.

I sat, my body tense and rigid, and let her hug me for a few moments. I was fighting a mental battle with myself over whether to shove her stupid crying ass off of me and onto the floor, or just to go with it. In the end, I went with it. Turned out I wasn't dead inside after all. I relaxed, finally, and leaned into her, buried my face in her hair and her shoulder, wrapped my arms around her and cried my fucking eyes out, like a damned baby.

She never said a word. She just held me as I cried and let all the pent up anger, stress, grief, and all the other emotional shit I'd accumulated over the past year, pour out of me. When there was nothing left, she pulled away from me and took my face between her two hands. Her eyes were as bloodshot and swollen as mine probably were.

"Rob, honey, I've been on my own in this shitty town since I was fourteen. I'm a Hollywood girl, through and through, and you have to believe me when I say this: You. Don't. Belong. Here. You're too good for this town. Too sweet. Too humble. You need to go home. Surround yourself with your family and friends and give this hurt time to heal, and I'm not just talking about this breakup. I'm also talking about the damage this celebrity stuff has inflicted on your soul."

"You don't know how much I want to do that. I hate LA," I whispered.

"I know you do. This town's been hard on you. You need to get away. Give it a week or two, and then call her. She'll have had time to cool down. But, in the meantime, just get away from this place and don't even think about it while you're gone."

"Things aren't going to work out with her. I've fucked this one up too much. She hates me," I said hoarsely.

She stroked my face tenderly, and then laid a finger lightly on my swollen and busted lip. "This isn't hate. There has to be love first before there's anger. If she didn't care, you wouldn't be worth hitting. Give her time. Let her heal, too. She loves you. Even though I don't know her, I know that much. My god, who wouldn't love you, given half the chance?" I made a soft scoffing noise. "No, you're not perfect by any means, but you're a precious soul, Rob. There's a lot there to love."

I laid my head back against the sofa and looked at her, and I mean really looked. Nikki was a stunning beauty who could have any man she wanted, but that part of her didn't interest me anymore.  "See? I was right. You do have a big heart down inside there." I laid my hand on her chest and it wasn't sexual in any way. "I'm really sorry for the way I treated you when we were together. I just wanted you to know that."

"I wasn't so nice, either." She grimaced. "I'm sorry for that, too."

"You've turned out to be one of the best girl friends I've ever had," I said with a smile. "Know what I mean?"

"Yes. I know what you mean." She chuckled quietly and snuggled up against me, underneath my arm. "Her name is really Bella?" she asked in disbelief.

"It started out as just a joke. I thought she was pulling my leg, but Isabella really is her first name. She just doesn't use it," I explained. "Please don't tell anyone that, Nikki. Can you imagine the media circus if anyone found out?"

"God," she snickered. "It would be insane. Don't worry, I won't say a thing. I wouldn't do that to you."

We laid together on the sofa in silence and watched the room spin around in circles. Sometime later—and I don't know exactly when because I'd lost all track of time—she left. If she'd have stayed, maybe I wouldn't have done what I did.  Once I was alone, I got the crazy idea in my head to call Bella. I convinced myself if I called her and begged for forgiveness, everything would be all right. I just needed to tell her I loved her and I wanted a second chance. I talked myself out of it probably a hundred times before just the right amount of tequila convinced me it was a good idea.  I pulled out my phone and called her. It went straight to her voice mail:

_"Hey guys! It's Abby! I'm not answering my phone right now for some very important reason, probably. Leave your name and number and I'll call you. I promise!"_

Her voice was chirpy and happy and it made me want to cry. At the sound of the beep, I disconnected without saying a word. Maybe she'd see my number in her caller ID. Maybe she'd call me back to see what I wanted. The ball was in her court.

I drank the rest of the tequila and passed out on the sofa waiting for the call that never came.

  
\-------------------------------------------------------------

  
_**(Sunday, December 21, 2008)** _

  
My head felt like someone was stabbing a knife repeatedly into my skull. My stomach was sick and churning, and if I thought about it too much I was going to throw up. Then I'd probably choke on it and die because I couldn't move. And on top of everything else, my cell was ringing, but I didn't care. I didn't have the ability to care at the moment, even if I'd wanted to. I felt like I was dying and I could have been for all I knew. How much fucking tequila had I drunk anyway? Was this what alcohol poisoning felt like? I thought about calling 911. It was only three numbers, after all. Surely I could manage to punch in three fucking numbers and get it right, but in the end, I just laid on the sofa and closed my eyes, waiting patiently for death to arrive.

"Rob, get up! You only have four hours before your flight leaves!"

I must have dozed off, because Cathy's strident voice jerked me awake and set my head to pounding with renewed force.  "Leave me alone," I moaned.

"Like hell, I'm leaving you alone," she growled. "Get up!" Hands pulled at my shirt and tugged me upright. The contents of my stomach were working their way up my throat.

"I'm gonna be sick," I gasped, and then threw up on the floor.

Cathy made an exasperated sound before pulling me to my feet. "Stand up and walk with me into the bathroom." We wobbled down the hall together and miraculously made it without me vomiting all over the floor again.  "Now," she stated emphatically. "You're going to puke your guts out in that toilet until there's nothing left in your stomach, and then you're taking a shower, and then you're drinking a pot of black coffee until your ass is finally somewhat presentable! Do you hear me, Rob?!"

"How can I not hear you, you're screaming in my fucking ear!" I yelled, and instantly regretted it.

Stabbing pains shot through my temples. I moaned and then threw up in the toilet. Over and over again.  Then I stood underneath the shower for a long time and let the warm water gush over me, until Cathy snuck her hand in and turned the faucet to completely cold. I think somewhere in between the screaming, I called her a cold-hearted bitch and told her I hated her fucking guts. She just laughed at my verbal abuse, and shut the bathroom door softly behind her as she left.

I emerged awhile later wearing a pair of jeans I'd found in my bedroom floor and a ratty t-shirt. I carefully made my way to the kitchen. I smelled coffee. Cathy was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me with a coffee mug nestled in her hands. A full one was waiting for me on the other side of the table.

"Well, you look a little better, at least."

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I gingerly sat down and pulled the coffee toward me.

"Nikki called me. It's starting to become a habit, you know. She was worried about you, and knew you were supposed to fly out today. She expressed her...uhm... _doubts_ as to whether you would be in any shape to get to the airport. And when you didn't answer your phone, I figured a visit was in order. Evidently, you continued on with the party after she left, huh? I'm not going to let you to fly to London and have your momma meet you at the airport and you looking like the walking dead."

"Thanks." I concentrated on drinking the coffee and took the little white pills she offered me for the headache.

"Rob, you're scaring me," she said softly as she laid her hand on mine. "Here lately, it's like I'm watching a train wreck in slow motion and there's nothing I can do to stop it. You need a break from all this. I think that going home to London is the best thing for you right now. I know about what happened with Abby. Nikki told me. And I'm not going to say 'I told you so', because I love you too much for that. But, you're going to have to deal with life's disappointments in a more productive way than this." I simply nodded silently as she talked. Everything she was saying was the truth. How could I argue with her?

"Why did you cut your hair?" she asked quietly.

"I'm making a statement the only way I know how," I muttered.

"And what statement is that?"

"It's my way of saying 'fuck you' to the media and the paps, and yeah, maybe even to the fans a little bit. I'm tired of everyone going on about my hair all the time, like that's the only worthwhile quality I have. What about my acting? My music? The focus shouldn't be on my god damned hair! So I got rid of it," I growled. "Am I in trouble with the suits at Summit?" I asked hesitantly, after a few moments of stunned silence on Cathy's part.

"Probably." She snickered. "But to hell with those old guys. It's _your_ hair, after all, and I'm sure it'll grow out by the time shooting starts on New Moon. Just don't make any more "statements" while you're in London."

"I'll leave it alone. No more haircuts. I promise."

"Good. Now you drink another cup of coffee. I'll work on getting your stuff together for the airport, while you work on sobering up. And one more thing, Rob. Don't you dare do a single interview or sign one single solitary autograph while you're home. Do you hear me? I don't want to see your face anywhere, not on a magazine cover or the Internet, for the next month. This time off is for you and you only. You've given to everybody else long enough. It's time to give yourself some TLC."

I stared after her as she left the kitchen, wondering what I had done to deserve such good friends. LA might be the cesspit of the earth to live in, but I'd met some really wonderful people here the past year. I guess I had to give it that, at least.  
  
  


\------------------------------------------

  
The press had a field day at the airports, both at LAX and Heathrow. My haircut was the topic of conversation on the Internet for days, according to Cathy's snickering messages in my voice mail. She informed me that the suits at Summit were shocked, to say the least, but there was nothing they could do about it at this point.

I managed to walk through LAX to my gate looking tired, but presentable. I ignored all questions about my hair and everything else, and just tried my best to smile a little for the cameras. As the plane took off from LAX, I watched the barren landscape dotted with high rises rush away from me, and felt not one bit of sadness as it finally disappeared from my view. I missed London. I ached for the familiar sights, sounds and smells of my home.

And I missed Bella. She was the only regret I had as I said my silent goodbyes to the United States. I'd promised myself, after I'd completely sobered up, that I'd respect her wishes and not try to contact her again. If she wanted to talk to me she had my number, but I wasn't holding my breath. I'd had my chance, and I blown it.

 


	25. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written in Bella's POV. This is a traumatic time for her and a pivotal point in their relationship. You'll get more insight into her personality and her motivations in seeking out Rob's company, as she remembers the past.

\-----------------------------------------

**~ BELLA ~**

I peeled out of the parking lot, my tires spinning and throwing gravels everywhere. My hand was stinging like crazy from the slaps. I hoped to hell his lip was hurting worse! I wiped angrily at my eyes because first, I needed to see to drive, and second, I wasn't wasting another precious tear on that fucking asshole.  _Lying bastard._ I sped by my house without even thinking of stopping. There was no way I could go home and face my mom. I needed to be alone. I needed a quiet place to scream and fall apart in private.

The Fosters.

I slid into their driveway, standing on the brakes and throwing myself forward against the steering wheel. _Way to go, Abby. Just kill your damn self while you're at it!_ I slammed the car door behind me hard enough to jar the bones in my arm. The front door key shook in my hand as I tried to fit it into the lock. I finally managed it after a lot of cursing. I slammed the front door behind me and stalked into the kitchen. I yanked open a cabinet door and pulled out a box of garbage bags and headed upstairs.

"You asshole! You think you can treat me this way just because you're some hot movie star? Well, think again, you prick!" I yelled aloud to the empty house, as I stomped angrily up the stairs. "Nobody treats me this way! I don't care if you're gorgeous and rich and on the cover of every magazine. I am NOT putting up with this shit! You hear me, Robert Pattinson?"

I stormed into the bedroom and stood in the middle of the floor, trying to decide where to start. My eyes were immediately drawn to a picture of Edward Cullen, AKA Robert Pattinson, AKA Lying Hollywood Playboy Dickhead. I yanked a garbage bag out of the box and headed to the nearest wall and started ripping and screaming.

"I'm one of the nice girls! How dare you cheat on me!" Rip. Edward Cullen gone.

"And with a skinny-assed pot-smoking whore!" Rip. Rip. Edward Cullen and Bella Swan gone.

"I hope you get every STD in existence!" Rip. Robert Pattinson gone.

"Gonorrhea!" Rip.

"Syphillis!" Rip.

"Chlamydia!" Rip. Rip.

"Herpes!" Rip.

"And every fucking letter that comes after the word Hepatitis!" Rip. Rip.

"I hope your dick turns green and falls the fuck off!" Rip. Rip. Rip.

When the walls had been totally stripped of posters, I turned my sights on the rest of the room. First to go was the idiotic cardboard cutout. I stomped on it until it was a mangled mess and then stuffed it into another garbage bag. I methodically worked my way around the room, throwing away everything that might even remotely remind me of that lying cocksucker.  

The iPod he gave me sat on my bedside table. I clenched my teeth and growled at it, and then grabbed the damned thing and flushed it down the toilet. Van Morrison could rot in hell alongside his most loyal fan!

I pulled open my dresser drawer, nearly ripping it from its metal track. I rummaged around in it until I found the two silk nightgowns he'd bought me, and the matching panties. I pulled and strained, trying to rip them in half, and then ended up screaming obscenities when I realized I wasn't strong enough to do it. I need some fucking scissors. I found a pair in the junk drawer of my desk, and cut them to shreds.

Suddenly, tears came out of nowhere. _Don't you cry. Don't you dare cry! He's a lying son-of-a-bitch who told you he loved you and then he screwed his co-star. Not once, but the whole time they were together! DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING CRY, ABBY ANDERSON! HE'S NOT WORTH IT!_ But I couldn't stop the tears. I screamed, hurled the scissors viciously across the room, and then threw myself face-down on the bed and fell apart. The pain was just too great to contain any longer. My anger was only a mask for what I was really feeling. My sobs were violent. I shook uncontrollably, and my screams echoed in the silent house. I pounded the bed with angry fists as the grief poured out of me.

I lost all sense of time and space. All I knew was that I finally stopped when there weren't any tears left. I lay prone on the bed, exhausted from the whole ordeal, and stared at nothing. After awhile, no matter how hard I fought against it, the memories came back:

 

_"We're going to the Twilight premiere!" I was screaming and jumping and waving the tickets in Jess and Angie's faces. "I'm going to talk to Robert Pattinson no matter what I have to do!" Jess was jumping up and down with me and hyperventilating. She was a hopeless idiot fangirl with no finesse whatsoever._

_"Abby, get real girlfriend. Do you know how many screaming girls are going to be at that thing? Thousands. He's not going to give a shit about Abby Anderson from Vancouver, Washington." Angie, always the realist. No imagination whatsoever, and as usual, a major wet blanket._

_"You're wrong, Angie, because I've got a plan..."_

It was a good plan, too. I knew he'd never notice me if I screamed like an idiot and blended in with every other girl in the crowd. I planned on sticking out like a sore thumb. The guy would have to be dead not to notice me. My plan worked like a charm. Instead of screaming and clawing at him, I caught his eye very calmly and just stared back at him, all wide-eyed and innocent, knowing full well how closely I resembled Kristen. When his beautiful eyes landed on me and widened in surprise, my heart nearly pounded out of my chest. We stared at each other for an eternity, but really it was only for a few moments. His blue/green eyes were even more stunning in real life. No camera could do them the same justice as looking into them from a foot away. Then someone fucked everything up when they butted into our moment and hurried him along down the carpet. One minute his eyes were searching my face in surprise and confusion, and the next moment he was gone.

But my plan didn't stop there. Angie and Jess brought along their boyfriends, even though they both thought Twilight was gay. Since they just came along for the ride, I put their complaining butts to work. Their job was to watch the limo Robert had arrived in and keep track of its movements so I could corner him somewhere and talk to him later. I eventually found myself in a dive bar on some back street in LA, walking up behind him as he sat alone at a table drinking. I was fully prepared to spend a few minutes basking in his presence, listening to his gorgeous British accent, and then being quickly dismissed after a scribbled autograph on a napkin. I prepared myself mentally for the possibility that he would be just a shallow Hollywood type who loved himself more than he loved anyone else. If he turned out to be an arrogant prick then at least I would have something to sell on eBay to recoup the expenses of my trip.

There was no way I was prepared for the reality that was the man, Robert Pattinson.

I was terrified when he asked me to sit down with him, and uncharacteristically shy. But when I finally gained the courage to meet his eyes directly, what I saw shocked me. The man appeared to be profoundly tired, and even looked sick. Any thoughts of bothering him for an autograph, or otherwise acting like a bimbo fangirl, completely left my mind. He looked like just an ordinary guy who desperately needed someone to talk to. So I offered him my ear, and got the shock of my life when he took me up on it.

That beautiful man poured his heart out to me that night in the bar. I listened to it all without comment. He told me, in his soft velvety voice, that he was happy for his newfound fame, but it was also weighing heavily on him. Stories from the past year poured out of him,  funny stuff as well as sad. I wasn't at all surprised when he confessed to having a panic attack after the premiere, which explained why he looked so tired and sick. After he finished spilling his life history to me, he seemed relieved, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Fate, or just sheer luck, had to be responsible for that night. Whichever it was, it put me in his path, and as it turned out, I was exactly what he needed.

I never dreamed I'd get as far as I did with my silly plan. I'd gotten his attention, managed to talk to him, so I thought, 'Why not go for the whole enchilada?' He was truly a nice person and with a wonderful sense of humor almost exactly like mine. He was nothing at all like I'd thought a wildly famous actor would be. If you could just ignore his smoldering good looks, it was almost like talking to an ordinary guy down the street.

Could I possibly pique his interest in me as something other than a stupid fangirl? When he graciously offered to take me back to my hotel, my mind worked furiously the entire ride, searching for some way to ensure that he wouldn't forget me. I couldn't just jump his bones. I wasn't a slut, by any stretch of the imagination. By the time we pulled into my hotel parking lot, I'd come up empty and the slut option was looking like my only shot.

God evidently heard my prayers. Robert asked for my phone number before I could embarrass myself by acting like a two-dollar Wal-mart whore. I had my foot in the door, now all I had to do was wait and pray that he'd actually call me. It was the longest two days of my life waiting for that call. And all the while, I argued with myself that I was being naive. He could have any woman he wanted. After all, the man hung out with Kristen Stewart nearly twenty-four hours a day, and she was stunning! I was nothing special to him. He wouldn't call. I was being just plain dumb to think that he would.

When he _did_ call, my life turned upside down. He was interested in me, and I had no idea why. Maybe it was because I was outside of the chaos of his everyday life, just an ordinary person. Or maybe he was bored with models. _Yeah, right._ I literally had no clue why that beautiful god of a man was spending his valuable free time on the phone with me, chatting away about the most inconsequential things like he hadn't a care in the world, like he wasn't the most famous face on the planet with thousands of screaming girls throwing themselves at his feet. It was a mystery to me.

He never came out and asked me to keep our friendship a secret, but I sensed that it was something private for him, a part of his life he wanted to keep only for himself. So, neither Jess nor Angie, my best friends in the whole world, had any idea I was talking for hours on the phone with the most sought-after bachelor in the universe. Sometimes, even I couldn't believe it.

Evenings at the dinner table were interesting, to say the least. I had a secret that would have brought my mother to her middle-aged knees. She was a hopeless cougar, madly in lust with RPattz to the constant annoyance of my dad, who quite frequently referred to her as a closet pedophile. And all the while, their bookworm of a daughter had somehow managed to snag the attentions of the sexiest actor in Hollywood. But I kept all of it to myself, and I did it for him.

Patience wasn't one of my better qualities. It was murder for me to wait on his phone calls, but I was determined that I was not going to chase after him. He had enough fan girls bugging him to death without me adding to the problem. I made the decision early on that I'd never call him unless it was an absolute emergency. The only prodding I did was to try and get him to come to Washington for a visit. As to the rest, I placed the reins of our relationship completely in his hands. I trusted him with my heart.

I growled furiously at how naive I'd been. "Lying asshole! I should have never trusted you!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the now bare walls of my bedroom.

I rolled over angrily and stared at the bedpost at the foot of the bed, remembering back to the day he first came to visit me:

_I was a nervous wreck after he told me he was flying to Vancouver. I nursed a sick stomach, and fought off heart palpitations at just the thought of him being in my personal space. I cleaned and straightened, and fussed with my clothes and my hair like an overgrown preteen on her first mall date. I practiced cute little things to say to him, witty conversation to keep him interested in me. I wracked my brain for some intellectual topics just in case I started to appear too childish to him. I did everything I possibly could to prepare for his visit, and I nearly ruined it all with my silly Edward obsession. I didn't even give a moment's thought as to how he'd feel about his face being plastered all over the walls of my bedroom, but he bravely soldiered through the awkward moment and brushed it off like it was nothing._

I looked once again at the bedpost, the same one he'd lounged against that first day, with his long, slim legs stretched out before him. I closed my eyes and remembered:

_He watched me warily, not yet sure whether he could trust me or not. He was nervous, and asked if he could smoke. I hated cigarettes, but he made it look so damned sexy that I ignored it, and actually grew to like seeing one in his hand._

_We sat in my beanbags on the floor, side-by-side, and talked about Twilight. It was during that conversation that he touched me for the first time of his own volition. He grabbed my hand and slid his fingers between mine without even breaking stride. I wondered at the time if he was even aware of doing it. His fingers were warm and so soft. His hands were truly one of the most beautiful things about him. His touch sent a tingle up my arm and down my body with an intensity that I had never experienced with anyone else before._

My gaze wandered over to the window seat where the intimate part of our relationship had begun: 

 

_I knew I'd never forget the sight of him stretched out there, his back leaned against the window frame, his arm dangling out the window to keep the cigarette smoke from bothering me. When he realized I was back in the room after cleaning up our dinner, and turned his blue/green eyes in my direction, everything inside of me flipped upside down and got all scrambled into mush._

_I'd kissed a few boys before him. It had been nice, but nothing to write home about. I'd never been kissed by someone who knew how to do it right, and Robert did. He was hesitant at first, a total gentleman. His breath tasted faintly of cigarettes. I'd always sworn I'd rather die before I'd kiss a smoker, but it wasn't unpleasant at all. I knew that the taste of his mouth, the softness of his lips and the scent of his after shave would haunt my dreams for a long time. After he spent an entire song kissing me every way known to man, I was nothing but putty in his hands. I would have done any perverted thing that man would have asked me to do, as long as he never stopped kissing me. If only he'd known..._

_The rest of that night was the stuff fantasies were made of, at least for me, it was. He was nothing like I'd imagined. Instead of arrogant and confident, he was incredibly shy and hesitant, even embarrassed that he wasn't prepared for sex. I think I fell head-over-heels in love with him the moment he said he was 'terrible with bras'. The man whom everyone, including me, thought to be dashingly handsome and debonair was, in real life, unsure of himself and so sweetly vulnerable._

_As far as the sex went, I had no idea what to expect from him. My friends treated it like something to be rushed through and gotten over with so the real fun of the date could begin. Very few of them seemed to really enjoy it. So, I wasn't expecting all that much, just your basic deflowering event, with little or no pleasure to be had on my part, but Robert had other ideas. He was so tender with me, so slow and patient. There was none of that rushing through it that my friends talked about._

_I got so caught up in watching him love me, and listening to the sounds he made as he moved inside of me. I found myself doing anything I needed to do just to hear him moan softly in my ear. I surprised myself with my sudden lack of inhibition and my behavior in bed. At times, I felt like it was all just an amazing dream. Nothing in real life felt that good. No one was that sweet, that kind, or that perfect._

_My mother always told me that once a guy got what he wanted from you, he was history. Gone. Out of there so fast it made your head spin. If the man meant anything to you, you had to hold out if you wanted to hold on. Robert was nothing like that. After he made love to me, we stayed up long into the night talking about anything and everything. I never realized how intelligent he was, and how well read. He could literally carry on a conversation about any topic I brought up. Then we listened to music together and laughed about silly stuff. It was stupid of me to have been nervous. He was so easy to be with. But after his first visit, I worried myself almost into hysterics wondering if I'd seen the last of him. My mother's warning kept echoing inside my head. He'd gotten what he wanted, now would he come back?_

_But the very next day he asked to come up again that following weekend. After I got off the phone with him, I danced around the room like a total fool, laughing and giggling, and proclaiming to the ceiling that he liked me! He really liked me! It wasn't just the sex! I was pretty sure he could get laid practically any time he wanted to. He didn't have to put himself through the torture of flying in a tiny airplane to Vancouver, Washington just for sex. So, there was something else there._

_I got a glimpse into the paranoid side of Robert the day we went to Moulton Falls. When I suggested it, a flicker of panic flashed briefly in his eyes. Just the thought of going out in public without any of his "people" around him was enough to bring on his anxiety. It was sad to watch him slouch down in the front seat of the car and hide his face when we went through the drive-thru. No one should have to live like that. The reality of his loss of privacy never really hit home for me until that day. It made me angry that he had to be constantly on edge in public and couldn't freely enjoy his private time like a normal person._

_He was watchful and wary the whole time we were in the park. I doubt he was even aware he was doing it. Being on alert was like second nature for him at that point. When he spotted the jogger running toward us, his fingers tightened in mine, and I sensed tension in his body. When she passed by us without pause, he relaxed again. Only after he realized that we were basically alone in the wilderness did he finally let his guard down enough to enjoy the day._

_I always did everything I could to make his time with me as normal as possible. That outing was my special gift to him. It didn't cost a thing, but to see him enjoy the freedom of those few precious hours made me smile. As I watched his eyes take in the beauty of his surroundings, and listened to his unbridled laughter that day, it finally dawned on me why he was here. He felt safe with me. He trusted me, and he enjoyed my company. All he wanted was some moments of peace in the midst of all the chaos and I gave that to him._

_And to think I'd only wanted to talk to him, and maybe get his autograph. I was still in shock at how close we became so fast. To even think of being in love after only a few weeks was ludicrous to me. That only happened in the movies. There was no way he was falling in love with me, not that fast. But after hours and hours of phone conversations, and two intimate weekends together, it became very obvious to both of us. There was a connection between us. When we were together, nothing else existed outside our small world. When he told me he needed me in his life, he only confirmed what I'd already figured out that day in the park._

_When he finally said THE WORDS to me, everything in my life fell into place. I didn't know how it had happened, but he'd fallen in love with me. Out of all the beautiful women he could have had, he'd chosen me. I vowed that day to do anything I had to do to keep him in my life._

_But when he called me from Europe, obviously a little drunk, and asked me if I would move in with him, I was thrown for a loop. I never expected an offer like that. My answer was a knee-jerk reaction and came straight from my heart. I really didn't know if I could live that life. I saw the misery of it in his eyes. It was difficult for him, and he was somewhat used to it. Did I want cameras in my face everywhere I went? How would I feel having my whole life history spread all over the Internet just because I happened to be the girlfriend of Robert Pattinson? Could I give up my privacy to be with him?_

_I spent hours mulling over it after we ended our phone call. I tried to imagine myself on his arm with photographers yelling at us, flashes in our faces while we tried to just enjoy ourselves at a restaurant. If I had to attend events with him, could I handle the questions, the attention, and even the rudeness of the paparazzi? Robert dealt with it so well. I wasn't sure I could. That was the one aspect of our relationship that worried me the most. When it all came down to it, could I really be a part of his life? If I couldn't, then it was over, because Robert needed someone who could be with him completely, not just a weekend here and there. I'd come to that conclusion pretty quickly._

_In the end, I called him back and told him I'd live with him if that was what he wanted. I called him back and offered my life to him without even suspecting that Kristen was in the other room and that they'd spent every night together in bed making love._

Did he even once think of me while he was with her? I reached underneath my shirt and found the necklace he'd given me. I held the charm tightly in my hand as the tears started once again. I hadn't thought that there would be any more left in me, but there were, and they poured down my face as I thought of him and Kristen together.

I imagined them in bed, him making love to her exactly like he did with me. I wondered if he whispered things in her ear. Did he close his eyes, or open them and watch her, like he did with me? Did he tell her that their bodies fit perfectly together like he said ours did? Did they lie in bed afterwards and whisper to each other or listen to music together? Did she rub his shoulders to get the tension out of them? Did she push his hair gently away from his face when it fell messily onto his forehead? Did the sound of his voice, with its velvety smooth British accent, mesmerize her like it did me? Just the thought of his hands on her made me feel sick to my stomach. Those beautiful hands that had roamed over my body so expertly, touching her in those same places, her nails digging into his arms as he made love to her, his breath against her neck and his gasping moans as he came. Just the thought of his betrayal enraged me all over again.

I'd thought he was such a good man. I'd been taken in by his good looks, his smooth voice and his crooked smile. It infuriated me that I'd fallen for it all like a love-sick teenage fangirl. I'd thought I was so grown up, and mature enough to handle a relationship with him. I'd been waaaay out of my league. Somewhere along the line, my plan had gone horribly awry. I'd trusted him with my heart, and that had been the biggest mistake I'd ever made.

And the man certainly wasn't perfect. I'd learned that pretty fast. He had his flaws. He chain-smoked, drank too much, and hinted that he toyed with drugs. He was a total slob. Every time he'd visited me, his clothes had lain wherever he'd dropped them. He'd never cleaned up after himself, and sometimes snored in his sleep. He had an uncanny ability to transform from a sex god to a bum—not with me, but I'd seen plenty of pictures of him looking scruffy and hung over. For someone so incredibly beautiful, he had a shocking lack of concern about his appearance. He also had a weird sense of humor at times, and could say the most random things, like he often did in interviews. He didn't care what people thought of him. All were relatively harmless faults, but those weren't the worst of them. I now knew he was capable of infidelity and lying, and those were most definitely _not_ harmless faults. The others I could live with, but not those.

I crawled off the bed and went over to my computer. I pulled up the document that contained my unfinished novel, the story based loosely on Robert's life. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I deleted it. I had no desire to finish it. No one would want to read a story with such a horrible ending. I gathered up the garbage bags, took them outside and stuffed them down into the trashcans out back. I glanced up at the trellis running up the side of the house. If I could have found an axe, I would have chopped it to pieces.

As I trudged tiredly back upstairs to my bedroom, I realized that I'd never get rid of the memories. I'd thrown away everything I could, but the images in my brain were etched there forever, the good ones along with the bad. I peeled off my clothes and crawled underneath the covers. I was physically and emotionally exhausted, and just wanted to sleep and forget about everything for a few hours.  But I couldn't forget. The mind could be very cruel. Images of Robert and Kristen together danced through my head and wouldn't go away. Angry tears coursed down my face, making me wonder if someone could become dehydrated just from crying. I'd had no idea there were so many tears inside of me. Would they ever stop?

I was still wide awake and exhausted at midnight. The tears had finally stopped, or so I thought. I'd read somewhere that there were stages to grief: anger, sadness, guilt, among others. How many times did you have to go through each stage? Surely just once. But no, the anger came back again in the middle of the night, burning hot and unforgiving. The images of him and Kristen together continued to fuel my rage. He'd made me feel like an idiot. I'd been so convinced that he loved only me, that I'd ignored the obvious right in front of my face. Everyone in the whole entire fucking universe knew there was chemistry between those two! Why hadn't I realized what was going on? How could I have been so naïve?

I hoped to hell he was happy with her. I hoped she gave him whatever the fuck it was that he needed. She was more suited to him anyway, because she was used to his chaotic lifestyle. She had the right 'Fuck all of you' attitude to survive in the fish bowl. I didn't. I would have gotten eaten alive within just a few minutes. They were probably in bed together right at that moment, screwing and laughing their asses off at the stupid little bimbo fangirl who thought she'd snagged a rich movie star.

While I was busy cursing the both of them, my cell went off. Whoever the hell it was, I wasn't in the mood to talk, so I let my voice mail pick up:

_"Hey guys! It's Abby! I'm not answering my phone right now for some very important reason, probably. Leave your name and number and I'll call you. I promise!"_

Who was that happy girl in the voice mail? It certainly wasn't me. I couldn't even remember being that carefree. Robert had sucked all the life and happiness out of me in just a few short minutes. I wondered how long it would take for me to get back to some semblance of normal.

Whoever had called didn't leave a message. My curiosity got the better of me. I checked my caller ID. It was him. What the hell did he want? Had he snuck into another room to call me again while Kristen was busy somewhere else? How stupid did he think I was?

"I hope both of you fucking die and rot in hell!"

I screamed and threw my cell phone as hard as I could. It hit the TV cabinet and fell apart in pieces on the floor.

_**"I HATE YOU, ROBERT PATTINSON! I HATE YOU!"** _

But a small voice inside my head was sobbing: _I love you, Robert Pattinson. I love you._

 

 


	26. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter is a complete work of my imagination. This is all I know for certain: Rob's mother and father are Clare and Richard Pattinson and they live on Westmoreland Road in Barnes, England (an outlying area of London). His two older sisters are Lizzie and Victoria Pattinson. There are some other assorted facts about his family and friends that I have gathered from various interviews that are too numerous to list here, but they'll all most likely pop up in this or following chapters. (He mentioned the "flower thing" in an interview once, so I'm assuming that event really did happen.)
> 
> But other than that, please realize that I know absolutely nothing about Rob's family members and their individual personalities, or their relationships with each other. All of that stuff has come completely from my imagination. (So...Rob...if you ever read this, I apologize if I got it all wrong. LOL)

\---------------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

I knew someone from my family would be given the job of picking me up, I just didn't know who until I saw him waiting for me in the airport lobby. After a few quick pictures from a lone photographer, I made my way over to him.

"Hey, Dad." I grinned, handing him my guitar to carry to the car.

"Son." He nodded and smiled in return. "You look good."

I looked like shit warmed over and he knew it, but he always said I looked good, no matter what. I guess that was part of a dad's job description. "Where's Mum?"

"Clare's home." He snickered under his breath. "Cooking dinner for you."

"Aah...thanks for the warning." Mum was the best mother a guy could ask for, but her cooking left a little to be desired. One thing I was looking forward to, though, was her tea. She could make a kick-ass cup of tea.

"Not to worry, son." Dad slapped me on the back and laughed. "Lizzie's helping out. We'll live to see the New Year after all."

I laughed along with him and thought about how good it felt to be home. As we made our way slowly through the crowded streets, I stared out the car window at the passing scenery. Old buildings, food stands, people walking their dogs, tourists with cameras—the familiar sights, sounds and smells of London, my home. I loved the hell out of it. The closer we got to Barnes, the lighter the weight on my shoulders. By the time we pulled into the driveway, the cloak of celebrity had completely fallen off me. I felt free for the first time in over a year.

"Robbie!"

Lizzie practically knocked me on my ass as soon as I stepped into the living room. Victoria and Mum weren't far behind. Arms were wrapped around me from all directions, my face smothered in kisses. Patty, my West Highland white terrier and the one and only true love of my life, barked and nipped at my pants leg.

"Guys!" I laughed, my voice muffled by arms, long hair and fuzzy sweaters. "It hasn't been that long!" I protested against all of the attention, but deep down inside of me something settled back into its proper place. I was home among people who loved me, even if I was the biggest dick on the planet. It felt good.

Dinner was a long affair, lots of eating, a little drinking, and a ton of talking and laughing. I only had to endure a little ribbing over my shorn head, and absolutely no one commented on my split and swollen lip. I think Mum and Dad had learned long ago that when it came to their only son, sometimes ignorance was bliss. But I was sure my two annoying sisters would pester the hell out of me about it in private.

"So, you ready for Christmas? Got your presents all bought and wrapped?" We were lounging around in the living room relaxing after the evening of overindulgence. Lizzie was trying like hell to hold in a laugh as she waited for my answer. She knew me. She knew I hadn't bought shit for Christmas, let alone wrapped it.

"Uh, no," I mumbled.

"Rob. You've known for a whole year that Christmas was coming." She scowled. "Ever heard of planning ahead?"

I couldn't resist. "In case you haven't noticed, your wildly successful and amazingly hot movie star of a brother has been a little busy lately," I quipped, smirking.

"Arse!" She growled and threw a cushion at my face, effectively muffling my laughter. Lizzie had spent our entire childhood going on about how she was destined to be a superstar someday, and now, her little gawky-assed brother had ended up being a bigger star than her. I never passed up an opportunity to rub it in.

"Just for that, your arse is going shopping tomorrow. With _me._  And we're not coming home until you've bought something for everybody." I opened my mouth to speak, but she didn't even give me a chance. "Don't even think about refusing, it won't do you any good. I'll be here at nine sharp. Be ready." I was going to say that I'd love to spend the day with her, then I decided to just let her think it would be misery for me. That would make her so much happier.

Liz and Victoria left shortly after that, both promising to take me over to my flat tomorrow evening. But for tonight, I was staying with the parents, and in my old room. After months of hotel rooms, the idea of sleeping in this wonderful old house sounded like heaven to me.

Dad and I ended up in the TV room, him in his comfortable chair, and me sprawled on the sofa with a book. We chatted and caught up on the local news. I read a little while he watched television, and eventually he fell asleep, like he always did. I was contemplating whether to crash on the sofa or drag my jet-lagged ass upstairs to my bed when Mum poked her head in the room.

"Come and drink some tea with your boring old mother," she said quietly, trying to avoid waking up Dad.

She didn't have to ask me twice. Drinking tea late at night with any one of her children was a long family tradition in our house, and, as it turned out, was also a great way to pump her kids for information about the goings-on in their lives. It had taken us all awhile to figure out what she had been doing all those years, but by that time, the ritual was so entrenched in our psyche that none of us would have ever considered putting a stop to it. In fact, we all agreed in private that we loved that quiet time with her.

"Sure." I smiled, marking my place in my book. I followed her down the hall to the kitchen.

The only light in the room came from the range hood over the stove. The house was quiet, all except for the television playing softly in the other room. Two steaming cups of PG Tips were waiting for us on the table. I sat down, wrapped my fingers around the warm porcelain cup and breathed in the pleasing aroma of the strong tea.

"I miss this more than anything. Americans know absolutely nothing about brewing a decent cup of tea."

"Well, what can you expect from people who tossed perfectly good tea into the ocean?" she asked, laughing quietly.

"Uh, there was that whole 'taxation without representation' thing," I reminded her.

"Bah! That's no excuse." She grinned and waved her hand in dismissal.

Conversation stopped while we both sipped our tea and thought our own private thoughts. Just sitting together at this table brought back so many memories for me. I remembered back to the first time I'd stayed up late with Mum to drink tea. I'd been only eight or nine years old, but I'd felt so grown up that night. I'd talked her ear off, about what I couldn't even remember now. When I'd reached my early teens, this idea had snuck its way into my head that confiding things to my Mum over tea was silly, and even downright embarrassing. I think she'd had a hard time pumping me for information during those years, as I'd tended to keep my youthful ventures into the world of juvenile delinquency to myself. It was only after I'd left home and went to live on my own, that I realized just how much this time with her had meant to me. I missed it. And even though I knew what was coming, I found myself strangely looking forward to it.

"I'm not even going to ask." She sighed, her eyes dropping to my swollen lip.

"That's probably a good idea," I answered quietly, avoiding her gaze.

"Robbie, what's wrong? And don't tell me 'nothing'. I could tell as soon as you walked in the door that something was bothering you. I know you too well."

"It really is nothing," I answered insistently, and then sighed in defeat. There was no use in trying to keep anything from her. She was relentless when it came to her kids' happiness. "Well, actually that's not true. It's a lot of things, but I'm dealing with them."

"How's the anxiety?" she asked worriedly.

"No panic attacks since the premiere," I assured her. "I came close in Paris, but I headed it off before it got a hold on me. I'm dealing with the crowds better, so don't worry about that. And I've gotten pretty good at ignoring the paparazzi."

She let out a string of profanities at my mention of the word 'paparazzi'. Ever since Lady Di's death, the paparazzi in England had become synonymous with the words 'bloody pond scum', among other, more colorful, expletives. No one hated them more than my mother. She'd loved Diana.

"So it's work then," she concluded.

"It's always work." I sighed. "Time zones, jet lag, hard hotel beds, endless interviews, no sleep..." I didn't bother finishing. I could go on and on with all the things that had sucked every bit of energy out of me since this Twilight thing had exploded nearly a year ago. "But I'm handling it. Most days it's fun—tiring, but fun. It's all good, really."

"I know we've told you this before, but your dad and I are so proud of you." She smiled and patted my hand. "We worried ourselves nearly to death over you there for awhile. You were so unsure of what you wanted to do, but things seem to have fallen into place for you now, just like I knew they would. You have so much talent."

I ran my fingers through my stubbled hair, and then sat with my head in my hands, thinking about her words. Finally, I raised my head and looked at her. "It's all luck, you realize that, don't you, Mum? There are a thousand other actors who could have played that part. I was just in the right place at the right time."

"That might be true, I'll grant you that," she answered. "But it's what you _do_ with that luck that matters. And I think you have a good head on your shoulders. You got that from your Dad. You're going to do fine. So," she continued. "You're dealing with the anxiety, and the work is tiring, but good. So that leaves girl trouble."

She raised one questioning eyebrow at me across the table, and I gave her a look back that silently pleaded, 'please don't make me discuss my fucked up sex life with you.'.

She sighed and smiled, dropping her eyes to my lip and back up again. "I'm just going to say one thing, and then I'm shutting up, and it's the same thing I've always told you. If you make a mess, clean it up. Don't sit down on your lazy bum and wait for someone else to come along and do it."  Before I could respond, she got up from the table and came around to my side. She kneaded my shoulders, and clucked over me like a mother hen. "I know your dad probably told you you looked good, but you don't. You actually look terrible. Get some sleep." She gave my shoulder a final gentle pat and then was gone. I listened to her rousting Dad from the chair and taking him upstairs to bed, and smiled to myself. Damn, it was good to be home.

I sat at the table and let the quiet of the house envelop me. Mum's words came drifting back. She'd been right, of course. I had a hell of a mess to clean up. Maybe now was the time to start. It was near midnight here, so it was around 4:00 pm at Bella's, the perfect time to call. I pulled out my cell and found her number. My heart was racing as I listened to it ring. I already knew what I was going to say. 'I'm sorry, Bella. I love you. Please give me another chance.'  But another chance wasn't in the cards for me. After three rings, I got an 'out of service' message. She'd changed her number. She'd really meant it when she said she didn't want to talk to me.

I sighed and made my way upstairs to my room, scooping Patty up into my arms along the way. I was so damned tired, both physically and emotionally. I shucked off my clothes down to my boxers, and stretched out on the bed, dropping my phone carelessly to the floor. Patty snuggled up close against me and licked my hand, and then my face. That was one good thing about having a dog. Dogs didn't care whether you were a liar, or a cheat, or the biggest dick on the planet. They loved you anyway. 

My last thoughts before I fell asleep were of Bella.

\-----------------------------------------------

"So, what happened to your lip?"

Lizzie was eyeing me curiously across the table as we lingered over lunch. The morning had been one long and tiring odyssey through an astonishing number of shops and boutiques, searching for the perfect gifts for everyone on the planet. At least that was what it had felt like to me, and we weren't even halfway done.

"I ran into a door," I mumbled.

She laughed. Actually it was more along the lines of a sarcastic snort. "Right, a door. So was this door a blond, brunette or redhead?"

I glared at her for a few moments, hoping she'd get the hint that I didn't want to talk about it.

"Blond, brunette or redhead?" she asked again.

I should have known she wasn't going to drop it. "Brunette," I answered, sighing in defeat.

She digested that little tidbit of information for a few seconds before a look of utter disgust crossed her face. "Oh no. Please tell me it wasn't that Kristen person, because you really need to stay away from that chick. She's been around the block one too many times, I think. She's not right for you, at all."

"No, it's not that Kristen person, whose name, by the way, happens to be Kristen Stewart."

"Whatever." She waved her hand dismissively. "So tell Lizzie all about it." She settled into her seat, crossed her hands underneath her chin, and stared back at me with her best Dr. Phil look.

"I'm not telling you, so just drop it," I answered as forcefully as I could, considering we were in a public restaurant surrounded by strangers, and I couldn't just choke her without causing a scene.

"Is that any way to treat your favorite sister?" She pouted. "I can help you, Rob. I'm good at this relationship stuff. Remember the flower thing? That was a great idea, and you know it—one of my best."

The flower thing. In my early teens, I'd developed a crush on this girl in my class. After floundering around for weeks trying to decide how to approach her, I'd made the mistake of asking Liz for advice. She'd come up with this brilliant idea of leaving her a rose in the slats of her locker. I was supposed to have composed a romantic poem for her, and wrapped it around the stem of the flower. The problem had been writing the poem. I'd filled the dustbin in my room to overflowing trying to write the perfect love poem, but everything I'd put to paper had ended up sounding like pure rubbish. So, in my ultimate teen wisdom, I'd left off the poem and just stuck the anonymous rose in her locker. Of course, she'd assumed it was from someone else—an athlete type with muscles in all the right places—that she'd evidently had a crush on her entire life. And the final blow to my ego had come when the athlete, seeing a golden opportunity just falling into his lap, had taken all the credit for my rose idea. Well,  _Liz's_ rose idea.

"This is a little more complicated than sticking a rose in some girl's locker."

Her eyes searched my face. "I can see that," she said softly. "It's obvious that you're hurting." She reached across the table and took my hand in hers.

Maybe it was because I was home, or perhaps because it was Christmas and images of happy families bombarded me where ever I went. Or maybe it was because I missed Bella like crazy, and wanted desperately to talk to somebody about her. Whatever the reason, I opened up to Lizzie and told her everything.

"Her name is Abby," I started, keeping my voice low. "She's beautiful, sweet and just... _normal_ , and I've hurt her so badly that I don't think it can be fixed."

"Roooobb," Lizzie chided me softly. "Anything can be fixed. Have you called her since you got home?"

"I tried last night. She's changed her number." I sighed. "And no, some things can't be fixed. I committed the ultimate relationship killer. It's beyond fixing."

She groaned. "What did you do?"

Right then, I wished I'd never said anything. I really didn't want to admit to what I'd done, but I knew Lizzie would pester me to death until I told her, so I decided to just spit it out, and to hell with what she thought.  "I cheated on her." I cringed even as I said it.

She stared at me for a few seconds before she growled in frustration and buried her face in her hands. When she looked back up, she shook her head. "What in the hell was God thinking when He gave men dicks?" She hissed at me, like I was personally responsible for God's mistake. "Women should have gotten them. At least we'd never get them confused with our brains like you guys seem to do."

The entire situation was anything but humorous, and yet I couldn't hold back the laugh that sputtered out of me. Personally, I'd love to see Lizzie handle having a dick for an entire month. Then we'd see how long it took her to mistake it for her brain, especially after she hadn't gotten any for a couple of weeks. I grinned crookedly at her across the table.

She glared back at me and then cleared her throat. "Okay, this can be fixed," she stated emphatically. "Just give me a minute to think."

My attention wandered around the room as she sat with her eyes closed. Not one person had stopped me this morning for an autograph or a picture. The people in this very room paid me no mind, even as my eyes briefly met theirs in passing. No one had disturbed my lunch with my sister. No paps had accosted me on the street. No matter what anyone thought, I much preferred anonymity to celebrity, especially in my own personal time. Cathy had been right. Being back in London had been exactly what I'd needed.

I turned my attention back to Lizzie. "You're wasting your time thinking. This can't be fixed. You weren't there. You didn't hear what she said to me."

Her interest immediately perked up. "Tell me what she said. Exactly."

I sighed. "She said she hated me, and that she wanted me the fuck out of her life. And before she stormed out of the room, she told me not to try and contact her in any way, shape or form."

Lizzie smiled sadly at me and shook her head again in what looked like sympathy. "Rob, Rob, Rob. What would you do without your big sister? That is NOT what she said."

"Yes it is!" I answered, my voice rising a little too much for the quiet atmosphere of the restaurant. I softened it and continued. "You weren't there. I was. And that's exactly what she said. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what she meant."

"Let me explain," she said, patting my hand like I was some mentally deficient child. "When she said she hated you, what she really said was 'I hate you right this minute, but give me some time and I'll love you again.' And when she said she wanted you the fuck out of her life, what she really meant was 'I'm hurting right now, but give me some time and I'll most likely take you back.' And when she said not to contact her in any way, shape or form, she was really telling you to give her a few days and then let her know that you love her and are thinking about her even though you're a total arsehole and don't deserve to be forgiven."

All I could do was stare at her in dumbfounded silence while her explanation sunk into my head. Finally, I shook my head at her and frowned in confusion. "That's not what she said."

"Rob!" She growled in frustration, drawing the attention of the people beside us. "Just trust me on this. You have to send her something for Christmas. Do you have her mailing address?"

I shrugged. I really didn't know right off hand. She'd mailed me that necklace, but I couldn't remember if I'd kept her return address. Maybe it was stuffed somewhere in my wallet.

"It doesn't matter. You can Google her," she answered. "You need to buy her something very special, something that lets her know how precious she is to you. What about jewelry?"

"I've already bought her a necklace."

"Well, what about some intimate apparel?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Already done that." I sighed in defeat. "And I gave her one of my iPods filled with music, so music is out, too."

Both us sat in silence for quite awhile, wracking our brains for that special gift that would bring me back into Bella's good graces. I had no idea why I was even taking part in this ridiculous exercise in futility. Bella was never going to forgive me for Kristen, no matter what I sent her.

"Does she like to read?" Liz asked, suddenly breaking the silence between us.

"Yes, she does. But a book doesn't seem like a very personal gift. She can go buy that for herself at the local mall," I pointed out.

"Mmmm, true," Liz murmured. Then she brightened. "But not if it's a special book, a book that she can't buy at her local bookstore." At my puzzled look, she continued. "Something of yours. A book that's special to you. You could send it to her with a nice, romantic poem handwritten on the flyleaf, and your cologne sprayed on the pages. Ooh, that would be perfect!"

For once, her idea didn't sound half bad. I mentally went over the contents of my book collection, many of which were in storage back at Mum and Dad's. I had a really nice first edition of the complete poems of Charles Baudelaire that was one of my favorites. The margins were full of my random thoughts that I'd scribbled down as I'd read. And she'd had a book of poetry in her bookcase, as I recalled, so she'd probably like it as much as I had.

"I think I have the perfect book." I smiled at Lizzie. Maybe she was right. Maybe this could be fixed.

"Good. Mail it off as soon as possible. In fact, I think the post is open late tonight because of Christmas. Oh! And send it overnight," she instructed. "Wait a day for her to call. She has your number, right?" When I nodded, she continued. "If she calls, you know what to do. Beg, cry, promise her anything she wants, and all that. If she doesn't call, then send her something else. You have to bombard her with gifts. From this moment on, that girl needs to get something from you every other day until she realizes that you're madly in love with her and want her back. It's that simple. You have to wear her down with your charm," she finished, grinning.

"I guess I don't have anything to lose, do I?" I didn't have much hope of it working, but somewhere deep inside of my heart I was hoping it would. "If this works, I owe you. Anything you want."

She flashed an evil grin, and I could only imagine what thoughts were going through her mind. I'd just given her the perfect opportunity to extort whatever payback from me was required to make up for the years that I'd tormented her.

Then she laughed softly. "As tempting as that is, all I want in return is to see my little brother happy."

"Thanks Liz."

She tossed the bill at me and grinned as she gathered up her shopping bags. "You're paying, since you're such a hot movie star and wildly successful and all that shit. Let's get going. Lots more shops to hit before we're done."

\------------------------------------------------

As soon as I got home, I dumped my parcels at the door and raced up the stairs to my room. I searched the two bookcases for the book of poetry. Not there. I pulled boxes out from under the bed and rummaged through them until I finally found it at the bottom of the third one I looked through. _Complete Poems: Charles Baudelaire._ I pulled it out and blew off any dust that might be clinging to the fabric cover. I flipped through the pages quickly, astonished at how marked up it was. I'd made notations in the margins of nearly every poem I'd read.

I turned to the front. The blank endpage stared back at me, waiting for me to inscribe a beautiful poem of love onto it that would win my Bella back. I sat on the edge of the bed with book and pen in hand, and mentally tried to put together some sort of verse. As I should have known, everything I came up with sounded cheesy. Writing poetry wasn't as easy as it looked. It sometimes took me weeks to write a single lyric for a song, and I had to come up with the perfect poem in less than an hour so I could get it sent off in the post before closing time? It wasn't possible. I needed more time than that. I decided to just write what I felt, and to hell with whether it rhymed or not.

_Bella,_

_I can't stop thinking about you. I know I messed up. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I realize that I don't deserve a second chance. But I'm asking for one anyway. I am so sorry that I hurt you. Please don't write me out of your life yet. Call me when you get this. Please?_

_I love you._

_Robert_

I read it over after I'd finished writing. It was pathetic, but the best I could do on such short notice. She'd probably laugh her ass off when she read it, and throw the book in the trash. What I really wanted to do was erase every word and start over, but I'd written the damn thing in ink. I didn't have time to do anything about it anyway, even if I could come up with something better. I grabbed my bottle of cologne out of my carry-on and sprayed a large cloud of mist into the air. I waved the open book through it, depositing just enough scent on the pages without ruining them.

I sent it out that evening, just before dark. Overnight delivery. The postage had cost a small fortune, but Bella was worth it ten times over. As I watched the postman toss the package into an outgoing mail bin, I felt nervous, but a little hopeful, all at the same time.

It was done. Now, according to Lizzie, all I had to do was wait for Bella's call. On my way home, I began to rehearse over and over in my head what I was going to say when that call came. I knew one thing for sure. I planned on doing a lot of begging, and basically agreeing to give Bella whatever she wanted. I'd pay her plane ticket over here and set her up in a luxury hotel. Anything, if she'd just come to England and give me a chance to make things right.

When I got back home, Lizzie and Victoria were waiting for me.

"Well? Did you send it?" Lizzie asked.

I nodded, but didn't elaborate. Unless Lizzie had told her, Victoria had no idea what was going on. I planned on keeping it that way. What I didn't need right now was more advice-for-the-lovelorn from my other sister.

Lizzie came to my side and slipped her arm through mine, guiding me back towards the door. "Let's go check out your new digs."

Everyone grabbed a suitcase. I only had three. The same three suitcases I'd lived out of since October.

"Where are my new digs, by the way?" I asked curiously. I'd given my two sisters and my mother the task of finding me a flat for the month or so I'd be home. My only criteria had been that it be small. I saw no need to rent some spacious luxury apartment just for myself.

Lizzie smiled. "Your favorite part of London: Soho."

 _Soho? Yes!_ It _was_ my favorite part of the city. Now I couldn't wait to get settled into my flat. At this point, I didn't care what it looked like. It only mattered that I would be smack in the middle of the three things I loved most: music, the film industry, and my favorite pubs.

Now all I needed was Bella, and everything would be perfect.

 

  
**MY SISTER LIZZIE, "THE RELATIONSHIP EXPERT"**

**MY OTHER SISTER, VICTORIA**

**PATTY, THE ONE AND ONLY TRUE LOVE OF MY LIFE.**

**BARNES, LONDON (ALONG THE THAMES RIVER AND HAMMERSMITH BRIDGE)**

 


	27. Happy Holidays?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUOTES:
> 
> "I miss being able to go for a walk," Pattinson, 22, told Sweden's Frida magazine in a new interview. "I miss the smell of London...I almost cried because I missed it so much. And I miss my dog [Patty, a female West Highland white terrier]," he says. Source: TheImproper.com
> 
>  
> 
> "I don't think it would be a good idea for Robert to be in a serious relationship with Kristen.... He's only 23 and probably won't get married until he's 40, if he's got any sense. I think he will eventually come back home to England and fall in love with somebody he's known since school." ---Diana Nutley (Rob's maternal aunt in an interview with Life & Style Magazine.)

\--------------------------------------------

_**London, December 23, 2008 -- late evening** _

  
**~ ROB ~**

The closer we got to Soho, the better I felt. I loved this part of London. I'd lived here a few years ago, near Denmark Street, deep in the heart of Soho's rich musical history. A couple of my friends and I had shared a small flat. Our living conditions had been deplorable, the flat drab and cheap, but I hadn't cared. I had been right where I'd wanted to be at that particular moment in my life: haunting bars and listening to musicians practice their craft night after night. I'd written a lot of songs during that time. Some of them had turned out surprisingly good. The rest of them had been pure shit, the result of too much drinking and not enough sleep.

"Your apartment is on Broadwick Street, right off Carnaby and one street over from Kingly," Lizzie said, smiling in my direction briefly, and then turning her concentration back to her driving.

I smiled to myself as I watched the landscape of London glide by my passenger side window. I was in love already. It didn't matter at this point if my apartment was an eight-by-ten cell in a windowless basement. I was going to have complete anonymity in Soho. I couldn't wait to get settled and go for a walk by myself.

"You're less than a half an hour's walk from Hyde Park, ten minutes by car. Only six minutes walking time to Picadilly and Oxford Circus, and a thirteen minute walk to Leicester Square. Restaurants all around you on Carnaby and bars galore on Kingly. What more could you ask for?" Lizzie asked, grinning.

"And..." Victoria leaned forward in her seat and poked me on the shoulder. "Only seven minutes from The French House," she said with a sly smile.

The French House. My favorite bar in all of England. No, in all of Europe. Hell, the French House was the best bar and restaurant in the entire world as far as I was concerned. We pulled into a well-hidden ground floor parking garage sandwiched between Fairgrounds, a small cafe serving coffee and breakfast foods, and The National Magazine House, home to the offices of some of the world's most famous magazines. Maybe my apartment really was in a basement.

"Your apartment is in the Magazine House." Lizzie answered my silent question as if she were reading my mind.

"In the Magazine House?" I asked doubtfully.

Victoria and Lizzie laughed together. "Actually, it's on _top_ of the Magazine House. On the roof."

"You're kidding," I snorted. They grinned and shook their heads. A rooftop apartment overlooking Soho. I was going to have to do something really special for these two annoying sisters of mine, and my beautiful mother.

Victoria leaned forward in her seat again. "At first, Lizzie wanted to rent this luxury five floor apartment over on Old Compton Street, but I talked her out of it by reminding her of exactly who was going to be living in it: our little brother. Hello? The one who can lose his piano in the rubbish he manages to create in just a small two room flat. Hell, you'd have been walking around naked for days in a place that big, just to find your knickers!" They both howled with laughter, congratulating themselves over their little joke at my expense.

"Yeah, that's real funny," I said dryly. "I'm not _that_ messy."

We parked the car and took an elevator straight to the roof. The doors slid open to an outdoor garden. Three large rectangular flower beds loaded with small trees and assorted bushes were evenly spaced across the roof. The apartment sat to my right, and hugged the edges of the building.

"The gardens are communal. People from The Magazine House sometimes come up here on their breaks if the weather's nice," Victoria explained.

Lizzie pulled the keys from her pocket and tossed them to me with a grin. "Go for it."

There were no windows on the back side of the apartment, just the main entry door square in the middle. I stuck the key in and pushed the door slowly inward. The first things that caught my attention were the dark hardwood floor and the kitchen, which lay straight ahead across the hall from the entryway. I walked just a few feet to my right and found myself standing in the living room combination dining room. A small fireplace hugged the back wall. A sofa and two side chairs took up the wall opposite the doorway. A modest rectangular wooden table sat along the wall that bordered the kitchen. There was a window and an exit door on the other end of the room.

"What's out there?" I asked curiously. Lizzie and Victoria grinned but didn't answer. I crossed the room in a few long strides, opened the door and peeked out.

"Holy shit, this is amazing!" I laughed and went outside to explore my terrace. It ran the entire length of the front of the apartment and hugged the edge of the roof, with only a few feet to spare. Folding chairs were scattered here and there. I leaned against the railing and looked out over the rooftops of Soho. What a sight it was going to be at night when the streets were lit and full of people.

They finally got me back inside and I explored the rest of the small flat. The kitchen combination laundry room lay just past the living room. The bedroom was situated on the other end of the apartment. A huge king sized bed took up most of the space, along with a bookshelf and a closet that could hold more clothes than I even owned. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, next to the bedroom. All the windows that were missing from the back of the house were located in the front. The living room window I'd seen when I first walked in. The kitchen had a window over the sink. The bedroom's double windows would afford a nice view of the city and night sky.

"Guys, this is great. Thank you," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. I couldn't have been more pleased. I didn't need luxury, I needed a small private space. What really felt good was that my family had known that about me, and they'd searched this huge city until they'd found exactly what I'd needed.

"The kitchen is fully stocked with food. The furniture is rented. You're paid up through the end of January with the option of extending a couple of weeks if you need to," Victoria said. "I explained the uncertainty of your schedule to the landlord and he didn't mind giving you that option."

"How much?" I asked, not really caring, but it seemed like I should ask. At least I should pretend that I was monitoring my cash outflow, even though I had a financial guy taking care of all of that.

"£425 a week," Victoria answered. "You can afford it. It's not like the old days, Robbie," she said, laughing softly.

I dragged my three suitcases and my guitar into the apartment. Lizzie announced that she had to go, leaving me with Victoria to help me unpack: underwear, several changes of clothes—mostly jeans and ratty shirts—socks, a couple of hoodies and a heavy jacket. If I needed anything else, I'd buy it. My toiletries consisted of a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, deodorant, a razor, shaving gel, and cologne. The only shoes I needed were on my feet. My lap top found a home on the small table in the living room, my guitar leaned against the wall. Fifteen minutes and I was completely moved in.

I checked the refrigerator for beer and smiled at the sight of the top shelf loaded down with tall brown bottles. I grabbed one and headed for the living room. I stuck both elbows on the small dining table and drank my beer, savoring the quiet of my new apartment. The noises of the city were far below me and felt like so much background noise. I barely even noticed it. In fact, I was so engrossed in my solitude that I'd completely forgotten about Victoria. She sat down beside me at the table and studied me quietly before finally breaking the silence.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, Victoria."

"I feel like I should ask you for your autograph or something." She laughed quietly. "Things have changed so much for you, and so fast."

I just smiled and continued working on my beer.

She grinned. "Course, I've picked up your dirty underwear from the floor too many times to be affected by all the hype."

I laughed and shot her an arrogant look. "I'm Robert Pattinson. Are you kidding? I don't have dirty underwear. I'm perfect."

"Hmmm, maybe I need to ring up the paps and fill them in on all the gory details." She snickered, then placed her hand on my arm and her voice turned serious. "London's good for you, Rob. Here, you're just a messy, annoying little brother and a beloved son who's been away from home far too long. Everything's real when you're home. You need that, I think."

I nodded my silent agreement.

"So, what's this I hear about a certain brunette and a swollen lip?" she asked boldly after we'd sat in silence for quite awhile.

 _Oh God, Lizzie's blabbed everything to Victoria._ I groaned softly and dropped my head into my hands, my beer forgotten as I tried to figure out how to avoid having this conversation.

"I know exactly what Lizzie is telling you." Victoria sighed, and then she proceeded to tell me in an almost perfect imitation of our beloved sister's voice. "'Rob, listen to Lizzie. We can fix this. All you have to do is shower her with love and gifts and everything will be just fine!'"  When I didn't respond, she continued with a knowing grin. "So, am I close?"

I raised my head up and reluctantly met her gaze. "I sent the first gift out a few hours ago," I sighed, helpless at the knowledge that I was staring round two of sisterly advice straight in the face, except that Victoria was the "serious" sister. The one who didn't look at life through the same rose-colored glasses as Lizzie. Victoria never pulled any punches.

She'd warned me that the locker/flower/poem thing was a bad idea at the time, because the girl was a snob who would never look at me twice. She'd been right, but I'd chosen to listen to my "romantic" sister and had ended up humiliated, my fragile teenage ego shattered in a million pieces.

"Lizzie might be right this time," Victoria conceded to my surprise. "But, have you even given any thought to what you're going to do if she decides to forgive you?"

"What the hell do you think I'm going to do?" I snorted. "I'm going to love her, and spend a lot of time and money and whatever else I have to do to make it up to her."

"Of course you're going to do _that_ ," she acknowledged wryly. "But that's not what I'm talking about." At my puzzled look, she continued. "Have you ever thought about the trust part? Trust in a relationship is like a piece of fine crystal. It's very delicate, and once shattered, very difficult to repair. It takes patience and a lot of hard work to restore it back to its original state. Are you prepared to work your ass off to make sure she knows that she's the only one you love? Do you even have time for her, with your insane schedule?"

"If she forgives me, I'll _make_ time," I answered with conviction. "Every spare moment I have will be spent with her, no matter what I have to do to make it happen."

"You really love this girl." It wasn't a question. Victoria already knew. She was wise about things like that. In all honesty, Lizzie was an amateur in the relationship department compared to Victoria. Victoria was Mum, just with a different body.

"Yes, I do. I didn't realize how much until she was gone from my life."

"And she's American?" Victoria left the question hanging in mid air. We both knew what she was getting at. I nodded and laughed.

"Oh hell," she groaned. "Christmas is going to be a bitch if Aunt Diana finds that out."

"Well, maybe I'll just tell Aunt Diana to shut the fuck up." I snorted arrogantly. I laughed at Victoria's horrified expression and then took a big swig of beer.

"You wouldn't!" she gasped and then chuckled.

No, I wouldn't. It would hurt Mum's feelings, not that I gave a shit about Aunt Diana's feelings. Truth was, Aunt Diana, my Mum's sister, was a major pain in the ass. Somehow, she'd gotten it into her head that everything her nieces and nephews did had to get her stamp of approval first. Everything from our clothes to our boyfriends and girlfriends had fallen under her scrutiny throughout the years. We mostly ignored her now, but that didn't make her presence at family gatherings any easier to endure.

"Well, if things don't work out with Lizzie's plan, I'm here." She chuckled, patting my hand. "We'll see you Christmas day, right?"

I nodded and thanked her for everything as she left, including the unsolicited advice, and finally shut the door to my apartment on complete silence.

Nothing to do, nowhere to be, and no one asking me stupid questions. Heaven. I piddled in the kitchen and made a snack. On a whim, I rang Bella's number again and got the same out of service message. Disappointed, I hit the bed and fell asleep with my iPod playing in my ear.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Christmas Eve, December 24, 2008 - London** _

On Christmas Eve, I was proud to say I did absolutely nothing of importance. I donned my jacket and glasses and hit the streets early in search of breakfast. After that I cruised the shops until mid afternoon, bought a few movies to watch, a couple of books, some junk food and checked out the hours of the local bars. No one paid any attention to me—no photographs, autographs or screaming—just the hustle and bustle of London at Christmas. Everyone was busy doing last minute shopping, too busy to care about Robert Pattinson, and that suited me just fine.

I was back in my apartment by late afternoon. I played around on the guitar for awhile, worked on depleting my junk food stash, watched a movie, leaned on the terrace railing and stared out over the city until I got too cold and had to go in, rang up a couple of friends to touch base, called Bella—still the same message—and then went to bed with my iPod in my ear again. Right before I fell asleep, I wondered what Bella was doing right that very moment. Probably last minute Christmas preparations, but she should have gotten my gift by now. _Wonder what she thinks of it?_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Christmas Eve, December 24, 2008 - Vancouver, mid afternoon** _

**~ BELLA ~**

"Honey, there's a package for you on the counter!" Mom shouted up the stairs as she hurried out the front door for some last minute Christmas shopping.

A package? From whom? I wasn't expecting anything. As I made my way into the kitchen, a thought suddenly hit me. _Oh no he didn't._ When I saw the return address on the box, I thought _oh yes he did._ It was from Robert. I tore open the box to find a book inside. _Complete Poems: Charles Baudelaire._ It obviously wasn't new. What did he do, buy me a book from the library sale table for fifty cents?

I flipped quickly through it. It was marked all to hell, _literally._  Someone had written in the margins of nearly every page, but it smelled nice, not musty like an old book should. Then the first page caught my eye. There was an inscription...in ink. A strange feeling crept over me as I sat down at the table and read it.

  
_Bella,_

_I can't stop thinking about you. I know I messed up. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I realize that I don't deserve a second chance. But I'm asking for one anyway. I am so sorry that I hurt you. Please don't write me out of your life yet. Call me when you get this. Please?_

_I love you._

_Robert_

  
Then I flipped back through the book again. The handwriting in the margins matched his inscription. This was Robert's book, and that nice smell was his cologne. It truly was a very special gift. What girl wouldn't give her eye teeth to hold in her hands one of Robert's own books? To read his personal thoughts on the poems he'd read? To smell his cologne while reading it?

 _Oh, Robert Thomas Pattinson. You are one smooth operator._ _You knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me this._ He knew I loved to read, and he'd obviously seen the book of poetry in my bookcase when he'd snooped around in my room that day. And the cologne... He couldn't have picked a more perfect gift for me.   _But do you really think a book is enough to fix what you did?_

"Nice try, Robert," I snorted softly. I put the book back in the box and taped the lid shut. I stuffed it under my bed, far away in the back corner, and proceeded to put the gift, and the cheat who had sent it, totally out of my mind.

\-----------------------------------------------------

_**Thursday, December 25, 2009 - Christmas Day - London** _

**~ ROB ~**

"My boyfriend says Edward is a faggot because he sparkles." Meredith, my snotty twelve-year-old cousin greeted me at the front door in her usual fashion. No 'hello, how are you?', just her normal smart-assed mouth. We'd pretty much hated each other since her birth, when she'd looked up at me with those huge newborn eyes and then proceeded to scream her lungs out. Our relationship hadn't improved much since then.

"He should know," I sneered at her like an overgrown adolescent. What a way to start Christmas Day. I brushed by her as she silently glared at me, and made my way into the kitchen. I smelled food.

Upon entering the kitchen, I realized that my Christmas was about to become much worse. Aunt Diana was holding court as Mum and my other aunt—my Dad's sister and Meredith's mother—hustled food from the stove to the table and back again. Dad was seated at one end of the table listening half-heartedly to her complaints while my two sisters were talking softly to each other and completely ignoring everyone else. Neither one of their boyfriends were in evidence. So this was going to be strictly a family affair. That was probably best. Strangers would not want to witness the train wreck that was about to become our Christmas dinner.

Finally, we all sat down at the table and commenced with the serious business of eating. After several minutes of peace and quiet, interrupted only by the soft sounds of forks hitting plates and murmurs to pass the salt or the basket of bread, Aunt Diana finally got around to turning her attention on me.

"When is all this Twilight hoopla going to be over with? It's all so disruptive." She sighed expansively.

"Not for awhile, I hope, or at least until I'm richer than the Queen." I chuckled, and then Mum kicked me under the table, a hard jab to the shin.

"Don't be disrespectful!" Aunt Diana said, glaring at me like I was five years old, because to her Queen Elizabeth was God, only in female form. "And another thing. I'm tired of seeing you and that Kristen person together all the time," she grumbled, frowning. "She's no good for you, Robbie. When all this crazy stuff is over, you need to come home to London and marry a nice British girl. Someone who'll take care of you and give you lots of children. Those American girls are no good. They're all loose and irresponsible. Look at that Britney person, shaving her head like a lunatic. And that Lohan girl? Nothing but a drunk. If you stay in Los Angeles long enough, one of them is going to latch onto you."

Dad was concentrating hard on his food and ignoring her. Mum was slumping dejectedly, probably wondering what in the hell had went wrong with the gene pool on her side of the family. Only Lizzie and Victoria seemed unfazed by Aunt Diana's rantings. They were smiling mischievously in my direction.

"Kristen smokes pot." Meredith was smiling smugly as she dropped that nice bit of information on everyone. "I saw a picture of her sucking on a bong on her front porch. Right out in front of God and everybody."

"Meredith, that's enough!" Mum hissed as Meredith's own mother added her outrage to the mix. The little twerp immediately shut up, but not before throwing an arrogant look my way.

"See?" Aunt Diana nodded enthusiastically. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You need a nice British girl. They don't do that sort of thing."

Victoria and Lizzie looked like they both were about to explode with laughter. All three of us had smoked pot at one time or another, and occasionally still did.

"I'm not seeing anyone right now," I said finally. "So you have nothing to worry about, Aunt Diana."

"That's not what I heard." Meredith spoke up again. "I heard you had an American girlfriend with brown hair, and she broke up with you because you cheated on her."  What the fuck? How did she know that?

Both sets of my sisters' eyes narrowed dangerously in Meredith's direction. She'd obviously been eavesdropping again. The sneaky little shit! Her mother got up and went around to her side of the table, jerked her up and practically dragged her out of the kitchen and into the living room. We all waited silently, hoping for sounds of immense pain and screaming to start coming from that direction. No such luck.

"Dear God, please tell me that isn't true," Aunt Diana wailed softly. "You're not dating an American girl, are you?"

"I'm not dating anyone right now," I retorted sharply. "And even if I were, it 's nobody's business but mine."

"Well, if she dropped you, it's probably a blessing in disguise." She sniffed haughtily. "You wouldn't have to cheat if you had a nice British girl on your arm."

Mum could tell that I was just about ready to unload on Aunt Diana. She stepped in to try and salvage what was left of our nice family dinner. "Let's change the subject, shall we?" Mum smiled and very efficiently steered the conversation to a safer topic.

I tuned out their talking and thought about Bella, my American girl. I wondered what she was doing. It was very early Vancouver time. She probably wasn't even out of bed yet. I'd have given anything right then to be in bed with her, snuggled up against her warm back, with my nose buried in her mass of brown hair. I pictured it all in my mind: my hand caressing her breast as she slept, her soft bottom pushed up against me, the smell of honeydew melon in her hair, the feel of her silk nightgown against my skin.   _Shit. I need to stop this. She's probably never going to forgive me or even speak to me again, let alone let me touch her or make love to her._

"Guess who's back from University?" Aunt Diana's question jerked me out of my pleasant daydream.

"Who?" Lizzie asked curiously, but Aunt Diana ignored her and everyone else at the table and focused her gaze on me.

"Julia. I talked to her mother a few days ago, and told her you were going to be back in town for awhile. I know Julia would love to see you, Rob. You two made such a cute couple," she cooed.

A cute couple? Dad rolled his eyes, and both of my sisters giggled. Mum was struggling not to laugh. Everybody in the neighborhood, even my parents, knew what kind of girl Julia was.  Julia and I had known each other since we were little kids. We'd played "Doctor-Patient" all through grammar school, with me being the doctor and her the patient. At age twelve, I had tried to get her to play with my _real_ thermometer, without success. By age sixteen, she'd gotten her temperature taken by every boy in the neighborhood. I'd finally gotten my turn on my seventeenth birthday after a long night of pub crawling and drinking. I didn't remember much about that night, and that was probably a good thing.  Julia was everything Aunt Diana hated, but to her, all the evil in the world lived in America. England was a Utopia full of virtuous and vice-free women just waiting to be swept off their feet and gotten pregnant, and then planted firmly into a kitchen for the rest of their life.  I wanted to tell Aunt Diana that Julia was a slut and to butt the hell out of my life, but Mum was shooting fiery darts out of her eyes straight at me, my silent warning to keep my mouth shut and not make dinner any worse than it already was. I sighed and continued eating, careful to keep my eyes away from Aunt Diana's end of the table.

The rest of the evening passed mostly without incident. We exchanged our small gifts around the Christmas tree. After that, Lizzie, Victoria and I avoided Aunt Diana and Meredith whenever possible. 

We were currently hiding upstairs in Lizzie's old room, with me sprawled across her bed and Lizzie and Victoria sitting on the floor. "Have you gotten a phone call yet?" Lizzie asked.

"Nope." I sighed. "She had to have gotten the book sometime yesterday, so she's had plenty of time to call." _She isn't going to call, no matter what I do._

"Time for another gift then," Lizzie said. All three of us batted ideas around until we finally settled on flowers. Victoria thought it best to gradually increase the monetary value of the gifts instead of bombarding her immediately with expensive things. I agreed. Bella wasn't a gold digger, which made the gift-giving thing that much harder.

"What's her favorite flower?" Victoria asked.

"I have no idea. We didn't get around to talking flowers," I answered. "But a dozen red roses would work, wouldn't it? Or should I send two?"

Lizzie snorted derisively. "God no, Rob. Any loser can send red roses. You have to send her something special, something exotic and hard to find this time of year. She has to know you went to a lot of trouble for her." Victoria was nodding silently in agreement, and since none of us had any idea what flower fit that criteria, we hit the Internet. It took us awhile, but we finally found something.

"Perfect." Lizzie sighed as all three of us looked at the pictures on the screen. "Call the florist and have them sent out first thing in the morning. Oh, and put a sweet note in with them, too. Be sure to mention that," she suggested, pointing at a particular paragraph in the article which described the meaning of the flower.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

_**Saturday morning, December 27, 2008 - Vancouver** _

**~ BELLA ~**  

I was upstairs in the living room reading, when I heard the doorbell ring.

"Can you get that, Abby honey? I'm cooking breakfast!" Mom shouted from the kitchen.

"Sure!" I shouted back. I rushed down the stairs as the doorbell rang again. I threw open the door on a startled delivery man. My mouth dropped open at what he had wedged between his arm and his chest.

"Flower delivery for a—" He took a moment to glance down at his pad. "—Abby Anderson. Sign here."

I took the pad from him and scribbled my name on the dotted line. He thrust the enormous vase of flowers into my arms and scurried away, no doubt facing a long day of similar deliveries.

Oh dear God in Heaven. The bouquet was so huge I had to peer around it to see where to put my feet on the steps as I made my way up to the kitchen. _What in hell is that man up to? The second gift in three days. How many more is he going to send? And does he think he can just keep bombarding me with "things", and I'll eventually give in?_

"I'm not that shallow, Robert Pattinson," I mumbled grouchily to myself as I finally made it to the top of the stairs. I walked into the kitchen and slammed the vase down on the countertop.

"What in the world?" Mom was staring open-mouthed at the mammoth vase of flowers now taking up most of her counter space next to the stove. "Who are those for?"

"Me," I mumbled grumpily.

She sighed. "Abby, they're beautiful." Then she looked at me suspiciously. "Do you have a boyfriend you haven't told me about?"

"No," I answered shortly. She started to grab the card sticking out between the long green stems, but I beat her to it. I opened the small envelope. There was a type-written paper inside:

_Bella,_

_You never told me your favorite flower, so I found one that reminded me of you. Calla_  
_lily means "magnificent beauty", the perfect flower for Isabella Abigail Anderson. I've tried_  
_repeatedly to call you but your phone number is out of service. PLEASE call me, Bella. Please._

_I love you._

_Robert_

  
"So who are they from?" Mom asked curiously.

"Some stupid boy who has a crush on me and won't take no for an answer," I retorted angrily.

"He must be some boy," she mused. "Not many boys around this neck of the woods even know what a Calla lily is, let alone send you an enormous bouquet of red ones. What a clever idea, though. Red Calla lilies for Christmas." She smiled and placed the enormous vase of flowers squarely in the middle of the kitchen table. There was no way in hell that I could avoid looking at them now. The only good thing was I wouldn't have to look at my little brother, Alex, while I ate.

Maybe I'd sneak down tonight while everyone was asleep and dump them in the garbage.   _Yeah, that's what I'll do._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Late Saturday night, December 27, 2008 - London** _

**~ ROB ~**

_"No phone call?"_ Lizzie asked.

"No." I was stretched out on my bed holding my cell against my ear with one hand, and a cigarette in my mouth with the other. I was one fag away from smoking up an entire pack as I'd waited all day for my phone to ring. When it finally did, and it was only my sister, I'd felt like throwing it against a wall again.

_"Shit!"_

" 'Shit' is right, Lizzie. I told you this wasn't going to work," I mumbled around my cigarette dangling from my mouth. "She said exactly what she meant that day. That bullshit you told me was just that...bullshit." I was tired and in a pissy mood. I felt like hitting a bar and staying there until they closed the place down around me.

_"No, we're not giving up. I already have an idea for the next gift. I did a little Internet surfing and chatting up my girlfriends for suggestions. We're going with jewelry this time."_

"I've already given her a necklace," I said tiredly. "A Celtic knot to match the one she gave me." Suddenly the phone went silent on her end. I waited a few moments, unsure whether we'd gotten disconnected or what. "Lizzie?"

_"I'm here. I was just thinking. Oh my God, Robert! She gave you a Celtic knot? That's perfect! That means she likes jewelry that has a special meaning to it. That makes this so much easier. Go to the jewelry store tomorrow and buy her a Claddagh."_

"A what?"

_"A Claddagh. It's a traditional Irish ring given as a token of love. Trust me on this, it's perfect for her. Put your birthstone in it and that'll make it even better. Look it up on the Internet and don't forget to include a note."_

We disconnected, I stubbed out my cigarette and went into the living room. I powered up the lap top and in a matter of minutes I was reading all about Irish Claddaghs. I smiled to myself. My sister was a genius. Bella was going to love this gift.  I went to bed in a much better mood. First thing in the morning I was going to hit every jewelry store in London until I found a Claddagh. Then I was going to mail it out tomorrow evening, and hopefully she'd have it on her finger by Monday afternoon.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Monday, December 29, 2008 - Vancouver** _

**~ BELLA ~**

"Another one." Mom grinned and laid the small box in front of me on the bed. I stared at it, trying not to imagine what was inside of it. Only certain things came in a box that small. "Well, open it!" Mom was standing over me waiting impatiently.

"Privacy, please?" I asked in that annoying voice teenagers use when their parents are getting way too nosy. She sighed in defeat and left the room.

I looked at that little box for a long time before I got the courage to open it. Inside, a small black velvet box was nestled snugly in the packing material. It was almost certainly a ring. Nothing else it could be.  I eased the lid up and peeked inside. My breath hitched when I saw what it was. A small squeak of appreciation slipped out of my lips before I could think. An Irish Claddagh, with an emerald in the middle!

I dropped the little box onto the bed like it was on fire. I covered my mouth and tried to hold in the excited whimpers that were pouring out of my mouth. _What the hell is wrong with you, Abby? It's just a ring, that's all. And not even an engagement ring! Just a plain and simple little gold ring. Why are you acting like such an idiot?_

But it wasn't just any old ring. It was a Claddagh, an Irish symbol of love. I picked the box back up and looked closely at the ring. A small emerald was held between the two golden hands. Robert's birthstone was an emerald. Tears stung my eyes as the significance of this ring finally dawned on me. A tiny piece of paper was folded and tucked in between the velvet lining and the lid. I pulled it out and read the tiny handwritten scrawl, easily recognizable now as Robert's.

  
_Bella,_

 _With my two hands I give you my heart, and crown it with my loyalty. Please give me a chance_  
_to earn your forgiveness. Call me..._

_I love you._

_Robert_

The tears were flowing freely down my face as I tugged the ring out of the slit in the velvet and slipped it on my finger. The heart represented love, the hands friendship, and the crown stood for loyalty. There were two ways to wear a Claddagh on the right hand. If the heart was facing outward it meant that the wearer was not romantically linked with anyone but was looking for love. If the heart was facing inward, it meant the wearer's heart had already been "captured" by someone special. Without thinking, I'd put it on with the heart facing inward.

My heart is already captured.

_Oh, Robert..._

I stared at that ring for a long time...and cried.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Monday night, December 29, 2008 - London** _

**~ ROB ~**

"She's softening. I can feel it in my bones." Lizzie was sitting beside me on the sofa as I half-heartedly picked at my guitar. I'd waited all day. No phone call. Personally, I didn't think she was softening at all. She was ignoring me, plain and simple.

"You've got to hit her with something really, really special this time while her defenses are down."

"I spent $300 American dollars on that ring, Lizzie," I said. "I can't go much higher than that or I'll just piss her off. She doesn't like for me to spend a lot of money on her."

"I agree. Victoria suggested a love letter."

"A love letter?" I stopped playing and stared incredulously at my sister.

"Yes, a love letter. Have you ever written her a proper love letter?" she asked. "I'm not talking about a short little thing that sounds like a greeting card. I'm talking about a real love letter. The soul-baring kind where you pour your heart out to her and let her know everything you're feeling."

That sounded a little scary to me. It was a huge risk to bare your soul so completely to someone else. I wasn't sure Bella would even _want_ to know everything I was feeling anyway.

"You look skeptical," Lizzie said, studying my face. "But trust me. Women adore love letters, the _real_ ones that are written from the heart. Just sit down and write out how you feel. Don't go into the bad stuff. Save all that for when you talk face-to-face. Concentrate only on how you feel about her. How you feel when you're with her and even when you're apart. Open up completely to her, Rob and I promise you, she'll swim the ocean to get over here to see you. In fact, it wouldn't hurt to enclose an airline ticket to make things easier for her." She smiled and patted my leg. "Write it tonight and mail it out tomorrow. Overnight."

"I'm not sure I can get something like that done tonight," I said hesitantly. This sounded like it was going to take me several days, in fact.

"Start on it tonight, then sleep on it. Get up in the morning fresh and finish it," she suggested. "It's not like you have anything else pressing to do."

After Lizzie left, I sat down in front of my laptop and opened up Word. I decided that the best way to go about this was to type it first so I could backspace over the inevitable crap and rewrite it. Then when it was finally the way I wanted it, I could hand write it on stationery.  I started typing, just letting the words flow out of me, just like I did when I was composing a song.

  
_Bella,_

 _To me, London is the most beautiful city in the world. I've literally counted the days_ _until I could leave the U.S. and come back home. Now that I'm here, I should be happy, right?_ _But I'm not. The truth is, I'm miserable..._

 

**ROB'S APARTMENT: LIVING ROOM/DINING ROOM**

**KITCHEN**

**BEDROOM**

****

**BATHROOM**

**ROOFTOP GARDEN**

**THE IRISH CLADDAGH**

 

 


	28. Happy New Year?

_**Tuesday, December 30, 2008--London** _

**~ ROB ~**

  
_"Have you sent it out yet?"_

My cell was clutched precariously between my jaw and my shoulder as I awkwardly pulled on my jeans. Lizzie's call had come just as I'd gotten out of the shower. I'd finally gone to bed at 3:00 AM after more than three hours of typing and soul searching. The hot water hadn't helped in the slightest to wake me up.

"No," I answered with irritation. "I just got up a few minutes ago. I was up half the night writing it and now I have to buy some stationery and hand-write it all over again, and then buy the plane ticket."

_"Hey, that's a great idea, the hand written thing. I should have thought of that."_

Huh. I guess the relationship expert didn't know everything after all. _Chalk one up for ole Rob._

_"I had another idea, though. It came to me as soon as I woke up this morning. I think you should include your phone number. What if she's lost it? What if that's the reason she hasn't called?"_

I laughed out loud at her ludicrous suggestion. If she only knew Bella like I knew her. "Trust me, she didn't lose it," I muttered dejectedly. She just doesn't want to talk to me.

_"You don't know that for sure. Shit happens, you know?"_

"You don't understand, Lizzie. You know all that crap that ends up stuck all over my computer? She has a notebook she keeps that stuff in. She's that organized. Her room looks like a monk lives in it, she's so clean. Her CDs are in alphabetical order, for Christ's sake. She didn't lose my number." I nearly dropped the phone as I stumbled into my shoes. "Listen, I need to go if I'm going to get this done and in the post today. I'll talk to you later."

I disconnected before she could say another word. I wasn't in the mood to argue with her. There was no way Bella had lost my number. Not her. She had a place for everything, and everything in its place, and Lizzie was trying to convince me that someone like her just lost my phone number like other people lose their socks?  No way in hell. If she'd lost it, I was pretty sure she'd lost it on purpose.

\-------------------------------------------

_**Wednesday, December 31, 2008 - Vancouver** _

**~ BELLA ~**

I sat on my bed holding the thick registered letter in my hands, dying to open it and terrified to read it once I did. I knew what it was; I felt it instinctually. This was Robert's last attempt to get me back. This was going to be painful to read. This was going to hurt... _bad._

I took a deep breath, and opened it. It was handwritten on cream stationery in Robert's characteristic handwriting. When I opened the folds, something fell out: a plane ticket, open-ended through January 15. He was giving me a deadline. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I hadn't even read the first word. How in the world was I going to make it through the entire letter if a stupid plane ticket made me cry? _Man up, Abby. Just read what the guy has to say. You can still hate him when you get to the end, but at least give him a chance._ Through a glimmer of tears, I silently began to read:

_Bella,_

_To me, London is the most beautiful city in the world. I've literally counted the days until I could leave the U.S. and come back home. Now that I'm here, I should be happy, right? But I'm not. The truth is, I'm miserable. It's been good to see my family, and I'm sure I'll enjoy being with my old friends, but I need more than that now. I need **you.**_

_I knew when I got on that plane that I was going to have to forget about you and move on. There was no way you'd ever forgive me for what I did. But forgetting you isn't easy. In fact, it's damned hard. I think about you the first thing when I wake up in the morning. I wonder what you're doing. I remember the smell of your shampoo in your hair, and the feel of you lying next to me in bed. Somehow I manage to forget you for awhile during the day until something random brings your face into my mind again. Yesterday, it was a song,  the smell of Chinese food the day before that. Sometimes it's just the feel of your necklace lying against my skin that does it. I can't even listen to Van Morrison anymore without remembering the first night we made love. I can't stand this. The memories hurt._

_And what's even worse than the memories is the knowledge that I've hurt you so badly. I can't even imagine what you were feeling that day. Watching you fall apart right before my eyes, and knowing I was the cause of it, was the most horrendous thing I have ever had to witness. I can't just go on with my life like nothing happened. I'll never be able to forget the sound of your pain. I hear your sobbing in my head at night when it's dark and quiet. Every word that you shouted at me is etched in my memory. If we never fix this, and both of us move on with our lives, I know for a fact that the memories of that day will stay with me forever. You can't cause another human being that much pain and then just dismiss it like it never happened._

_So, I'm asking you for a chance to fix it, Bella. I want another chance to prove to you that I'm worth loving, even though I doubt sometimes that I am. I always mess things up. I don't mean to. I truly don't. But somehow I always do. Even though I doubt whether I'm worth the effort, I know **you** are. I've known that almost from the very beginning._

_You walking up behind me that night in the bar was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time. I was a mess. Not the Robert Pattinson you expected to meet, I'm sure. Everything for the past six months came crashing down around me that night. I thought I was handling it so well, only to find out I wasn't. I wanted to be alone and then there you came, like a million other fan girls, wanting something from me when I didn't have anything left to give. I came so close to telling you to fuck off, and rudeness is not normal for me. That's how messed up I was._

_I thank God every day that I didn't push you away, because you were exactly what I needed that night. You didn't ask anything of me. Instead, you **gave**. You gave me your undivided attention, and listened as I poured out all this shit of the past six months and dumped it squarely on your shoulders. The most amazing thing to me was that you stayed after hearing it. The last time I poured out my heart to a girl like that, she walked away from me and I never saw her again. You'll never know how much that meant to me. Just someone to listen, that's all I'd needed._

_And even with all the 'My name is Bella' weirdness, I still felt comfortable talking to you. I never seriously thought you meant me any harm. I didn't want that night to end. You can't know how hard it was to say goodnight to you at your hotel. I wanted to talk to you the rest of the night, the next day and the next day after that. There's something about you that I connect with on a very deep level. I felt it that night and I still feel it, even across the ocean._

_I don't know what it is. I've tried to figure it out, but I can't. All I know is, when I hear your voice on the phone or in person, it's like music to me. I could listen to you talk all day. Why do you think I called you so many times and talked about absolutely nothing for as long as I could? It was to hear your voice. It soothes me._

_Being alone with you feels so natural, like I've known you all my life. I don't make new friends easily. My few close friends are the same ones I've known since I was 12 years old. You feel like one of those friends, and yet I've only known you for a few short weeks. When you connect with someone like that, you can't just forget them. They're a part of you. You're a part of me, Bella, a part I can't let go of._

_Trying to find the words to describe what I feel when I'm with you is hard, but there's a song floating around in my head that says it perfectly. Have you ever listened to the lyrics of "Love Song" by The Cure? That's exactly how I feel. "Whenever I'm alone with you, I feel like I'm whole again. I feel like I'm home again. I feel like I'm free again. However far away, I will always love you." Whoever wrote those lyrics knew what it felt like to connect with someone like I connect with you. They had someone in their life that helped them keep their feet planted firmly on the ground._

_I needed someone like you, Bella, and I didn't even know it. When you think about it, it's ironic how closely my life mirrors Edward's. I know you're probably smiling when you read that, considering I've always denied that I'm like the character, but my life has been so twisted and fucked up since this all began. Nothing has felt right. I've been walking around constantly off-balance trying to adjust to all the changes and never quite managing it, coping on a day-to-day basis, thanking God that I'd made it through another day and hoping I could make it through the next one. And the whole time, I never knew that the one thing I needed most was about to drop into my lap (except it was in a bar instead of Biology class). That was when you walked into my life and my world shifted on its axis. What I thought I wanted, I no longer did, although it took hurting you for me to find that out. I regret that more than you'll ever know._

_Sometimes I'm astonished that you fell in love with me at all. I know my faults, every single one of them. Some of them can be hard for a girlfriend to deal with. I'm a workaholic, and when I'm not working, I'm a loner. I drink too much. Smoke too much. I'm a slob. I don't give a shit about the things other people seem to think are important, like clothes and jewelry and fancy houses. I know what you do for me, but I have no idea what it is that I give to you in return that makes you love me. All I know is I'm grateful that you do. Well...I guess I should say "did", because I don't know if you love me anymore. I'm assuming your silence to be a sign that you don't care about me any longer. If you did, you'd call me. We'd get together and talk this out, settle it one way or another. I can't go on in this limbo anymore, Bella. I need you in my life. I know you've heard that from me before and you probably don't believe me now, but it's true._

_No one has ever loved me like you have. No one has ever accepted me for exactly who I am, instead of who they wanted me to be, especially now, with this celebrity shit hanging over me. Everybody expects me to be something I'm not, but not you. You loved me the way I was—faults and all—from the very beginning of our relationship. You've filled an empty place inside of me that no one else has ever been able to fill before._

_And no one has ever made love to me like you do. Please don't think I'm being superficial, like I'm a guy, so naturally that's all I think about is sex. Because being with you is the farthest thing from superficial I've ever experienced. The first time we were together I knew it was something different. I'd never made love to a woman before you. I'd just had sex. There's a huge difference, Bella, as different as night and day. I miss being with you. I'm not ashamed to say that. I want you every single day, some days so bad it hurts. There's no one else I want in my arms except you. No one..._

_I want you to know that I cherished every moment that I spent with you in Washington. I'd give anything if you were here with me now, in England. I'm sending you an open-ended plane ticket so you can come to visit, so we can finally talk about this. If you want, I'll reserve a suite for you in a nearby hotel. Anything. I'll do anything to get you here with me. At least give me a chance. If you get here and decide you don't want anything else to do with me, I'll pay for your flight home and try to get on with my life. If you want to stay, well, I can't think of anything else I'd love more._

_I love you, Bella. I can say it a hundred times, but I need you here to prove it to you. I can't stand being so far away from you, and not even hearing your voice through the phone. Please call me._

_I will always love you..._

_Robert_

He'd added a hastily scrawled postscript at the end, in a different color ink, obviously an afterthought: his phone number. 'Just in case you lost it', he'd added.

I read the letter through three more times. My sleeve was wet where I'd wiped the steady stream of tears away with it. I sat on the bed for a long time trying to come to terms with what I'd just read and deciding what to do. Now I didn't have any excuses. I had his number and I had a plane ticket, and even the offer of a place to stay. He was making it impossible for me not to respond, as was his intention. _A deadline..._

What should I do?  I raced down the hall to my brother's room and threw open his door. "I need to use your phone." My brother Alex was sprawled across his bed playing his X-Box, his brand new iPhone lying by his arm.

"Sorry, no can do," he answered in his snotty, I'm-being-a-buttface, voice.

"I need a phone, Alex!" I hissed. "Now!

"Not my fault you broke your new $300 phone that had more way more cool features on it that mine would ever have," he answered smugly, and with a little jealousy. I'd gotten the better phone of course, because one, I was the oldest, and two, I was a highly mature and responsible daughter. Mom had been majorly pissed when I'd broken it and grounded me from getting another one, even with my own money.

"What do you want?" I sighed in defeat.

"Clean my room," he said, not taking his eyes off the game.

Damn. Nothing with my brother was ever easy. His room was a disaster area. I regularly referred to it as The Pit of Despair.

"How about I do your Algebra homework for a week?" I suggested instead, since he sucked at high school math.

"Nope. It's clean my room or no phone," he answered, his eyes still fixed on the television screen.

"Never mind. I'll use the one in the living room," I snapped.

"Mom and Dad's in there. No privacy." He chuckled evilly.

Ooooh, sometimes I just want to squeeze his scrawny neck in two. "All right, I'll clean your damned room! Now give me the phone!"

Without taking his eyes off the video game, he tossed me the phone. I caught it and raced back down the hall to my room. I heard him yelling something about 'no roaming or mom will shit a brick' as I slammed the door to the outside world.

I sat cross-legged on the bed and looked at the letter again—especially the part at the end—and wondered what I should do. I debated with myself for a long time before I finally made a decision. There was only one thing _to_ do. I punched in a number and waited. One ring, two rings, three rings.  _Come on, come on. Answer the phone!_

"Hello?" a puzzled voice on the other end said.

 _Thank you God!_   "We need to talk, Angie. Can you come over?" The tears had started again for no reason as soon as I'd heard her voice on the other end.

"Abby, where the hell have you been? I thought you were dead."

"I've been grounded. No phone, no fun. Can you come over? I really need someone to talk to."

"Of course. Be there in ten."She disconnected and I sank back on the pillows in relief.

Angie was my best friend, and had been since Kindergarten. Even though we were the same size, we were totally different in every other way. Her shoulder-length hair was darker than my ordinary brown. Her green eyes were strikingly beautiful. I'd always hated my boring brown ones. She was blunt, outspoken and brutally honest with her friends. I always tried not to hurt anyone's feelings. Her droll sense of humor quite frequently went right over other people's heads. Not mine. I loved it, and I loved _her_ like the sister I'd never had.

Despite our differences, we'd become fast friends. We told each other everything. Always had, until lately, that is. I hadn't told her about Robert, and I felt bad about it. She'd shared all of her boy problems with me and I'd kept mine from her, but I hadn't had any choice. Robert's privacy was a very important part of his life. I respected that. Still did. But I couldn't keep this to myself any longer. I had to talk to someone. I needed another opinion. I could always count on Angie to give it to me straight up, no holds barred. She'd help me cut through all the bullshit and figure out what I should do.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting cross-legged on my bed staring down at me, her piercing green eyes filled with concern. "What's wrong? Tell me."

"I've got a huge problem, and you can't tell anyone. And I mean _no one_. Especially Jess." Jess would blab it all over the world by morning. She wouldn't be able to help herself. That was just Jess. Secrets ate her alive from the inside until she finally just blurted them out to the first person she saw. She was the worst secret-keeper in the universe. We both knew that, but we loved her anyway.  When Angie assured me that she wouldn't tell a soul (and I believed her without any hesitation), I told her everything. Well,  _almost_ everything.

"Oh...my...God," she said softly when I finally finished. "You and Robert Pattinson?" She shook her head in disbelief and continued. "I have no clue what you see in him. Personally, I think he's over-rated, but I fully appreciate the enormity of this situation, Abby. You've only managed to single-handedly land the most sought-after bachelor in the entire world right now. Major love coup, girlfriend. Way to go!" She extended her hand, waiting for a high five. I lackadaisically returned it. I wasn't feeling very victorious.  "But..." she continued, the smile gone from her face. "He cheated on you and that sucks. Who with?"

That was one fact I'd purposely left out. I was hoping she wouldn't ask. I sighed in defeat. "Kristen Stewart."

"Kristen..." she started, puzzled. Angie wasn't a Twihard like me. It took her a few moments, but then finally the light bulb went off. "Kristen Stewart. His co-star?"

I nodded. "And he's been sending me gifts, asking me to give him another chance: a book of poetry, flowers, a ring, and I got a letter today, sort of a love letter. He enclosed a plane ticket. He wants me to fly to London to be with him. 'To talk this out', he says."

She shrugged. "Talking doesn't hurt anything."

"So you think I should go?"

"If I were in your shoes, I would. I'd want to know what happened. But, that's just me," she said with a wry smile. " _And,_  there are a lot of other things I'd want to know, too."

"Like what?" I had a list of my own, but I was curious if Angie's matched mine.

"Well, I'd want to know how he feels about her. Does he love her or did he just fuck her for the fun of it?"

I grimaced at her bluntness, but that question was at the top of my list, too, just worded differently.

"I'd want to know if he's seen her or talked to her since it happened, if she's been to visit him in London, if they've talked on the phone. That sort of thing."

I nodded. On my list, too.

"And I'd want to hear exactly how it happened. Who instigated it? Her or him? And are they together? If he's trying to get you back, I'm assuming they're not. Then that would make me wonder why they aren't together. What the hell happened?"

I'd wondered that myself. I'd just assumed they were a couple now. But since he was sending me gifts and trying to get me back, I'd had to backtrack and look at things differently. _Yeah, Robert. Just what the hell DID happen?_

"But Abby, there's something you need to think long and hard about before you make any decisions. He's going to be making another movie with her, right?" I nodded. "If you go back with him, how are you going to deal with him being with her all day long. Don't they kiss again in that next movie? He's going to be kissing someone he's slept with. I don't know if I could handle that."

 _I don't either._ But if I decided to go back with him, I had to give him the benefit of the doubt and trust him. How the hell do you do that when someone's already lied to you once?  "So you definitely think I should go?" I asked finally.

"You'll always wonder, if you don't," she answered knowingly.

Then for no reason at all, the tears came again. Angie pulled me to her and I cried my heart out on her shoulder. How could loving someone hurt so much?

"So, if you decide to go, when do you think you'll leave?" she asked after we'd pulled apart. "You'll need a ride to the airport, you know." She smiled crookedly.

"Well, I guess I'd have to wait until the 5th," I answered hesitantly. "I'll be 18 then and my parents can't stop me from going, right?"

"Theoretically." She chuckled. "But I predict it'll be one hell of a fight, unless you leave without telling them, and I don't see you doing that."

She was right. I would never do that to my parents. If I decided to go, and I was still unsure, I would tell them my plans and let the chips fall where they may. I had a lot to think about, and I refused to be pushed into anything until I had it settled in my mind. Open-ended plane ticket or not, I needed to be sure of my feelings before I took off on a lark and did something I might regret.

"Thanks for listening, Angie, and for giving such good advice. I love you," I said, sniffing and wiping the tears from my face.

\-----------------------------------------

_**Wednesday, December 31 (New Year's Eve) - London** _

**~ ROB ~**

It seemed like my cell had rung a hundred times today. Each time I'd willed it to be Bella. No such luck. Assorted friends were ringing me up and attempting to organize an impromptu New Year's Eve party at my place. Evidently word had spread of my new rooftop digs in the middle of Soho. All of my friends who were in town for the holidays wanted to come over and hang out with me, to celebrate the beginning of another promising New Year.

Tom and Sam were in town for a couple of days. Marcus was trying to get away from work to stop by. They'd all bring some of their friends and a bunch of girls with them. I usually looked forward to these types of house parties: drinking, hanging out with old friends, playing music. But by evening, I realized there was nothing for me to celebrate. Bella wasn't going to call. I'd taken Lizzie's advice and included my phone number, but still no call. She was done with me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

So, my one and only goal for the rest of the evening became to forget about the fucked up mess that was my love life. I didn't feel like going out, so I rang up Tesco's and had a bunch of munchies delivered. Then I called Beverage Heaven. Thank God they delivered alcohol 24 hours a day. I ordered enough liquor to make all the world's problems disappear—at least for one night—because tonight I was going to get totally shit-faced. Hopefully, I'd be ringing in the New Year in a state of unconsciousness, because I didn't think I could handle seeing her face when I closed my eyes to sleep tonight. I didn't want to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, imagining her curled up next to me. I didn't want to think about the fact that I'd been rejected by the only girl in the world that I wanted to be with, and that it was my own damned fault.

I sighed at the sound of the doorbell. _Let's get this fucking party started._ It was Sam waiting at the door, guitar in tow, with Tom bringing up the rear. We did the guy-hug thing and slapped each other on the shoulders, popped the top on some beer and settled down in the living room to catch up on each other's news.

In the middle of our conversation, the doorbell rang again. It was Marcus. He'd made it after all, but he announced that Bobby couldn't make it. He was playing a show tonight. That was one good thing about this Twilight thing. My friends were finally getting the attention they deserved, thanks to Catherine and her decision to put our music in the soundtrack. I was damned happy for all of them and proud, as well.

Of course, the topic of New Year's resolutions came up. We prodded each other into sharing. Sam went first. "I'm resolving to be more selective regarding my sexual partners in 2009." That brought a laugh out of all of us.

"Partners-with an "s"? Doesn't that mean you have to have more than one?" Tom asked, grinning crookedly, to which Sam responded by growling and throwing a handful of pretzels at his face.

Marcus, always the serious one, went next. "I vow to work harder in 2009." We all smiled and offered an affectionate 'awwww' in his direction. Marcus couldn't work any harder than he already did. It just wasn't possible. And it was starting to pay off for him, finally. I was damned proud of him.

Next came Tom. "I'm going to cut back on the partying," he announced bravely. A chorus of laughter and 'Yeah, right's' filled the room. Tom was the king of house parties in our circle of friends. Nobody threw a better one than him. The day he cut back on partying would be a sad day for all of us.

"What about you, Patty?" Everyone's eyes fell on me. I hadn't even given a New Year's resolution a single thought until that moment. What would make a good one, one that would actually change something in my life for the better? _I vow never to cheat on another girl again as long as I live? I'm going to try not to be a total asswipe in 2009?_

"I think you should shoot for a girlfriend older than twelve in 2009," Sam answered for me, laughing uproariously. He was taking an obvious dig at the average age of my fan base.

"I'd resolve to concentrate on the cougars, if I were you," Tom kicked in with a smirk. "Older women equals more experience." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. They were all looking at me, waiting for my answer. I opened my mouth and this is what came out:

"I'm going to quit smoking. It's bad for the vocal chords." _And my girlfriend hates cigarettes,_ I added silently. _That is, if I still have a girlfriend._ Evidently, I'd impressed everyone with my resolution. We spent a little while arguing the various methods of quitting, what worked and what didn't. They'd all tried to quit at one time or another. They all still smoked. Not very encouraging.

The doorbell interrupted an argument over nicotine gum versus hypnosis. I left the room in relief and opened the front door to find a group of smiling, giggling girls. The tall willowy blond I recognized. Emma. She'd always had a soft spot for Marcus. The two brunettes behind her were strangers to me. I took their coats as they filed in past me. When I saw the fourth and last girl, the shapely strawberry blond, my mouth fell open in shock.

"Hey, Rob," she said, smiling sweetly as she draped her coat over my arm. I murmured an unenthusiastic 'hey' in return and went to the bedroom and dumped the coats on the bed. I was going to choke the person who had invited Julia to my apartment.

Instead of relaxing and having fun, I spent the next hour continually pushing her wandering hand off my thigh. She was drinking steadily, as was I. We were both well on our way to getting totally plastered. Drunk was the only way I could deal with Julia tonight.

"Patty! More beer! We're out!" Sam boomed over the laughter and guitar playing. I got up, relieved to be escaping Julia's clutches and headed down the hall to the kitchen. I pulled one out of the fridge, popped the top, leaned against the counter and got to work. Next thing I knew, I wasn't alone.

"Rob, you're looking good," Julia purred as she sidled up against me at the kitchen counter. She'd followed me into the kitchen and shut the folding doors. I'd given her the once-over in the hallway when she'd first came in. She looked good, as well. It hadn't escaped my attention, though, that she had a brand new set of tits since the last time I'd seen her. It sucked for her that I hated fake tits.

"Thanks," I muttered. I inched away from her a little and turned my full concentration on getting to the bottom of my beer. I was already a little drunk, but I wasn't nearly as drunk as I needed to be. Not yet, anyway.

"It's been awhile since I've seen you. I thought we could…catch up." I didn't miss the seductive tone of her voice or the fact that she'd closed the distance between our bodies again.

"Julia..." I started to tell her I wasn't interested, but her fingers that had been playing idly along the top of my jeans, suddenly moved lower. The rush of blood in response to her touch shocked and infuriated me at the same time. She wasn't the woman I wanted, and I was furious that my own body was betraying me. I firmly pushed her hand away. She countered by moving in front of me and pressing her body completely against mine. Her hips ground against me…hard.

She tried to kiss me, but I turned away. "I'm not interested," I said forcefully. I didn't want any mixed signals between us. Unfortunately, she had me wedged between her body and the kitchen counter. I was going to have to hurt her to get her off me.

"You feel pretty interested to me." A seductive chuckle from way down in her throat sent a jolt of lust straight to my groin. "And you know, the last time we were together, I didn't get to do all the things I wanted to do to you." Her fingers were expertly loosening the buttons of my fly as she spoke. "I want you in my mouth," she whispered, her lips brushing against mine.

Just then, the sliding doors flew open. Sam ambled into the kitchen, obviously headed toward the refrigerator. He stopped when he realized we were there, and then sized up the situation pretty fast. "Aw, shit. Sorry, Patty." He beat a hasty retreat and folded the doors shut behind him.

I owed Sam one, because that interruption was exactly what I'd needed to clear my head. "I'm not interested!" I pushed her off me, maybe a little too roughly, but I didn't care at that point. I was majorly pissed. Pissed at myself for responding to her and pissed at her for even having the gall to show up in my life at all. I buttoned my jeans as I pushed by her, violently pushing open the sliding doors and heading to the living room.

"Don't you walk out on me!" she yelled at my back as I left. She followed me into the living room. I got as far away from her as I could get and then turned to face her. "Don't you FUCKING walk out on me!" she screamed. Everyone in the room suddenly grew quiet. The laughter faded. Drink-filled hands froze in mid air. Marcus had been playing softly on his guitar, but had stopped, letting the echo of the strings die out on its own. Everyone's eyes were on us.

"I told you twice I wasn't interested! Can you not fucking hear?" I yelled back.

Her eyes were blazing with fury as she stared me down across the room. "Oh, I can hear all right. I get your message loud and clear. You're a little famous now, and all of a sudden you're too fucking good for Barnes girls!" She'd started out speaking calmly, but by the end she was screaming again.

Suddenly the world around me shrank until it was just she and I alone in this room. She was everything about my new life that I hated. Girls who wouldn't give me the time of day a year ago, suddenly acted like I was the best thing since sliced bread now. And I was drunk enough that I didn't give a shit about what I was getting ready to say. I was mad as hell, about Bella, about my own stupidity, and at my life in general. Later I would realize that Julia was just a convenient target for my anger. She'd had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Don't give me that bullshit! After that night, you completely turned your back on me. And now, all of a sudden, you have this burning desire to have my dick in your mouth? That's fucking bullshit, Julia!"

"Guys, let's take this somewhere else." Tom approached me from the side and attempted to calm me down. I pushed him away.

"I didn't have anything to do with you because you were pathetic! You were a sympathy fuck, Rob! Didn't you know that?"

"Patty, she's drunk. Don't pay any attention to her." Tom was speaking quietly behind me, trying in vain to diffuse the situation.

"I was a sympathy fuck," I repeated, snorting derisively. "Then what the hell are you doing here? You wanna be a groupie? Wanna latch onto the gravy train? What, Julia? Why the fuck are you still here?" I shouted angrily.

"You're an arsehole, you know that? A total arsehole!" she growled between clenched teeth. "Maybe I'll ring up the paps and tell them what you're _really_ like. Give them a blow-by-blow account of your little 17th birthday party in the back seat of my car." Then she laughed. "Shouldn't take two minutes at the most to tell the whole fucking thing!"

My temper erupted. I lunged in her direction, but Tom grabbed me around the chest. Sam was up and pushing her back toward the hallway. I heard murmurs of 'get her out of here' floating around the room as Tom pulled me out the door and onto the terrace. The blast of cold air to my face brought me back to my senses. I leaned against the outside wall, shaking with fury. "I'll kill that bitch if she goes to the press!"

"Rob, relax. She's drunk on her ass. She won't remember any of this in the morning. Anyway, I think Sam's putting the fear of God into her right now." He chuckled and gripped my shoulder reassuringly. "Calm down. It's going to be okay. She's not going to do anything."

I leaned my head back against the wall and looked up at the clear, starry night sky. I was shaking inside and not having any luck bringing it under control on my own. "You got a cigarette?" I asked Tom.

"I thought you were going to quit," he answered softly.

"Fuck that. I need a cigarette," I said shakily. He handed me one and lit it for me. He leaned against the railing opposite me and watched silently as I sucked all the nicotine into my lungs that I could get.

"What's going on with you, Patty? I've never seen you like this."

"I'm drunk," I answered, exhaling a lung full of second-hand smoke into the cold night air.

"No, you're usually a happy drunk," he said. "Something's wrong, man. You're in a foul mood tonight."

I said nothing. Just kept puffing away and waiting for my insides to settle down.

"Patty. you know you can tell me..." He let the sentence fade and waited for me to respond. He sighed expansively, his breath like a white fog surrounding him. "I'm freezing my ass off here, Rob. Talk to me."

"I've messed everything up," I said softly.

"Like what? What have you messed up?"

I barked a short laugh and took a draw off the cigarette. Blew the smoke back out. "I could literally screw any woman I wanted right now. Did you know that David Lee Roth used to have his "people" bring women to his hotel room after concerts? I could do that. I could fuck a different girl every night and never fuck the same one twice." I'd reached the end of my cigarette. I ground it out on the wooden planks with my foot.  "I need another one." My New Year's resolution was already down the fucking tubes. Might as well go all out and chain smoke my way through an entire pack. He offered me another one and lit it for me.

"I'm not sure that's a problem." He chuckled softly.

"The problem is that the girl I _really_ want doesn't want anything to do with me." There. I'd said it, spoken it aloud to someone else besides myself. Somehow, that made it more real and also made it hurt a hell of a lot worse.

"You have a girlfriend?" he asked, clearly astonished. I'd hid it pretty damned well, evidently.

"Yeah, I do. Well... _did_. Before I fucked it all up," I said miserably.

"Anyone I know?" he asked curiously.

"No. She's just an ordinary girl. A fan."

"You've got yourself a Plain Jane?" he asked, grinning now.

"Her name is Abby, and she's anything but plain." I smoked my way through that cigarette and another one as I told him everything, starting with the night of the premier all the way through the ridiculous attempts of the last few days to get her back.

"Man, I'm sorry," he offered when I finally finished. Yeah, so was I. "Sooo..." He stuck his freezing hands deep into his pockets and shivered. "Who did you cheat with?"

His question started me laughing. There wasn't a damned thing funny about any of this, but I couldn't seem to control it. "Kristen," I answered when I was finally able to stop laughing my drunk ass off like a total idiot. "The girl I've wanted since the first moment that I met her, who doesn't want me either, by the way, which is a good thing, because she's not the one I really want." I shut my mouth before I started to really sound like a total ass. I couldn't imagine what Tom thought of me at that moment.

Wisely, he said nothing in response. What could he say? 'Man, I'm sorry Rob, but you fucked up?' I already knew that.

"It's almost midnight. Let's go in before we both freeze our balls off. No girl will want either one of us if that happens," he said, attempting to get a laugh out of me. He was wasting his time.

I went back in, dispensed with the beer and started hitting the tequila pretty hard. The last thing I remembered was my friends counting down to the New Year in the other room. Ten, nine, eight, seven...

I passed out before they made it to one.

\--------------------------------------------------

 

_**Thursday, January 1, 2009 (Mid-morning, New Year's Day) - London** _

**~ ROB ~**

I woke up sprawled across my bed, face down and fully clothed. Blinding sunlight streamed in through the open drapes in my bedroom. _What time is it?_ I didn't have the get-up-and-go to even raise my head to find out. Actually, I was afraid to move my head. The way it was pounding, if I moved even an inch, I was going to throw up everywhere. So I lay very still and concentrated on not vomiting. The apartment was quiet. I guess everyone had gone home after their impolite host had passed out on them. Some friend I was. I shouldn't have even agreed to have a party considering the mood I'd been in.

I had to go to the bathroom...bad. So there was nothing for it but to drag my ass out of bed. I barely made it to the toilet before everything came up. For the millionth time, I wondered why I put myself through this. I never had come up with a plausible answer to that question.

I shucked off my clothes and crawled back underneath the covers, pulling them up over my head to shut out the light. I fell asleep almost immediately.

My cell woke me with its incessant ring tone. I ignored it. A few minutes later it sounded again. I sighed and fumbled around on the bed until I discovered it lying in the floor alongside my clothes. I had tons of missed calls. I scrolled through them quickly. Nobody I really felt a burning desire to talk to: my mom, Lizzie, Victoria, Cathy, Sam, Tom, Marcus, Nikki, Peter, Tom again, Lizzie again, and finally...Kris. _What the hell is she doing calling me?_ I dropped the phone in the floor, rolled over onto my back and stared at the plain white ceiling until I felt like I could get up.

I took a long, hot shower which actually made me feel better. I ambled into the living room and groaned at the sight that awaited me. Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the floor and the lone coffee table. Bowls of stale chips sat in the floor, some of their contents spilling onto the once clean hardwood. The kitchen wasn't much better. _To hell with it._ I'd clean it when I got around to it, which wasn't going to be today, not the way I felt.

I was just deciding what to do with the rest of the evening when the doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I peeked through the privacy hole. I wasn't in any mood for a surprise like I'd had last night. Surprisingly, it was a FedEx man. I couldn't tell what he was delivering through the tiny opening. I unlocked and opened the door.

"Robert Pattinson?" he inquired in a bored voice.

"Yes."

"Delivery," he stated matter-of-factly. "Sign in two places." He indicated with the mechanical pen-on-a-string where I should sign. I scrawled something that resembled my name and received a medium-sized padded envelope and a regular letter for my efforts.

"Have a nice day," he said mechanically as he turned to leave. I murmured something appropriate as I shut the door. I pretty much knew what the padded envelope was. It was from Summit and I'd been expecting it. It was the regular-sized envelope that got my attention.

I tossed the Summit package on the sofa and sat down with the letter still in my hands. It was thin, like it held only a single sheet of paper inside. It was registered. It had been sent overnight. It was addressed to me. No mistake there. It was from Bella.

I leaned forward and laid it on the coffee table, right on top of the Summit package. I'd begged for a phone call, and I'd gotten a letter instead. Even I knew what that meant.

It was a Dear John letter from the only girl in the world who mattered to me.

 

 


	29. Reunion

**~ ROB ~**

I stared at that plain white envelope for the longest time, afraid to pick it back up. I hadn't liked how it had felt in my hands. It was too light. It almost felt empty it was so light. She hadn't poured out her heart into it that was for damned sure. Whatever words it contained were short and to-the-point. I was afraid I knew what those words were going to say: "It's over, Robert. I don't love you anymore. You may be a movie star, but you're also a liar and a cheat. Goodbye."

_Rob, you're a pussy. Just open it, read it, and face the damned music like a man._

I took a deep breath and picked it back up. I carefully slid my thumb underneath the flap on the back, and then very slowly ripped an opening along the top. Inside was a single sheet of plain white notebook paper, folded into thirds. When I unfolded it, I saw that it was indeed short. The words didn't even take up the top third of the paper. I fought the impulse to skip to the end and read the last line, like I often did with a particularly suspenseful book. Instead, I started at the beginning...

 

_Robert,_

_I'm writing you this letter because what I need to say, I can't say over the phone._

 

I squeezed my eyes shut and threw the sheet of paper back on the coffee table like it was on fire, like it was about to sear a hole right through my hand if I held it any longer. I fell back against the back of the sofa and moaned, rubbing both of my hands over my face and then up through my nonexistent hair. _This is it, Rob. She's telling you goodbye, and she has every right to, after what you did._

I felt the sting of tears beginning to form in my eyes, and cursed myself for the thousandth time for being so stupid. I’d cried more in the last month that I had all my life, but I had no one to blame but myself for that. I fought back the tears, and then gingerly picked the letter back up. I started over at the beginning. This time, it wasn't as much of a punch to the gut as before:

_Robert,_

_I'm writing you this letter because what I need to say, I can't say over the phone._

_We need to settle this face-to-face._

_I turn 18 on Monday the 5th. I have a flight out of Seattle that morning._

_Don't meet me at the airport. I'll call you when I arrive._

_And don't reserve me a hotel suite. That won't be necessary._

_Abby_

 

My first reaction was one of elation. Nowhere had the word 'goodbye' even been mentioned. And to top it all off, she was using my ticket and coming to London. I was grinning like an idiot. She was going to give me a chance!  Then I made the mistake of reading it again. After the second and third time through it, my elation began to fade. I pulled out my cell and called Lizzie, my own personal relationship expert.

_"Hey, Robbie! Happy New Year!"_

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered. "Can you come over for a little while?"

" _Uhm, actually I'm talking to you while submerged up to my neck in lilac-scented bubbles. So, no, I can't come over. What's up?"_

"I got a letter from Abby."

_"That's great! I told you she was softening."_

"I thought so too, but now, after I’ve read it two or three times, I'm not so sure."

 _"Read it to me. I'll interpret it for you."_ She snorted a laugh on her end.

Yeah, I was pretty dense about girls at times, but even _I_ could interpret the meaning of this letter. I read it to her. It took all of ten seconds. When I was finished, I heard nothing but silence on her end for the longest time.

 _"That's all? That's it?"_ she asked finally, sounding worried.

"Yep, that's it. I was happy at first, but now I'm not so sure."

_"You have to think positively. If she were going to dump you, I highly doubt she'd fly all the way to London to do it. She'd have told you in the letter, or better yet, called you and told you. That just doesn't make any sense."_

"But Lizzie, listen." Then I read it through for her again. "Do you hear the word 'love' anywhere in there? And look how she signed it. 'Abby'. Not, 'Love you, Abby' or 'I'll always love you, Abby'. Just 'Abby', and not ‘Bella’ either. And I told her I'd rent her a hotel suite and she says 'that won't be necessary'. What the hell does that mean? I'll tell you what the hell that means. It means she's not staying. She's coming over here to dump my ass and then turn around and leave."

"You're being ridiculous now. That doesn't make any sense. Only a gold digger would come over here, make you spend money on her, then dump you and fly home again. And you said she's not like that, so just stop ranting for a minute and think about this. Would the girl you love do something like that to you?"

The girl who'd rubbed my shoulders and back until I'd fallen asleep wouldn't. The girl who'd given me the gift of a day of peace and quiet at Moulton Falls wouldn't. Neither would the girl who had kissed me and made love to me like there was no tomorrow. But the girl who had sobbed and screamed at me in a tear-filled rage quite possibly would. The girl whose heart I'd broken into a million pieces would have no trouble with it, I would think. The thing was I had no idea which girl was flying to London to visit me in four short days.

Four short days?? _Holy shit!!_ I looked around my living room and realized that no matter what happened, the fact of the matter was that Bella was going to be occupying my personal space in four days, and my apartment looked like a Third World war zone and smelled like the inside of a dumpster. My refrigerator was just a cold empty box taking up space in the kitchen. The sheets on my bed were dirty. The bathtub was full of soap scum...

"Lizzie, thanks, but I have to go. What's the name of those people who clean for you?"

 _"Miss Maid? Ohhh, that's right. Last night was New Year's Eve."_ I heard a knowing snicker on the other end. _"You're probably neck deep in empty whiskey bottles and junk food wrappers right about now, along with your normal mess."_

Which reminded me. "Guess who crashed my party last night?" I waited for the expected 'who?', and then added, "Julia. She really showed her ass and I showed mine back. It wasn't pretty."

 _"Jesus, what a bitch! I can't believe she even had the gall to show up. If I run into her on the street, I'll kick her arse for you."_ A chorus of laughter on Lizzie's end made me smile. I'd love to see a hair-pulling match between my sister and Julia. I'd pay good money to see that. Hell, my whole _family_ would pay to see it, except for maybe Aunt Diana.

"Thanks, Liz, but I can handle her. I'm really going this time. I have a lot to do before Monday."

I was so busy the next three days that I barely even noticed the passage of time. As soon as I disconnected with Lizzie, I started by ridding my apartment of every empty beer and liquor bottle, every empty chip bag, every torn candy wrapper, and every stray bit of trash that I could find. I picked up clothes from the floor, hung up what was clean, and made a pile of what was dirty. I stripped the bed and did my best half-assed job at putting on clean sheets and pillowcases.

Then I called Miss Maid, Lizzie’s cleaning service. They arrived Friday morning. I left the apartment while they were there, and ordered a boatload of groceries to be delivered later: breakfast foods, snacks, cooking essentials on the off-chance that Bella might want to cook, Diet Coke (her favorite soda), M & M’s with peanuts (her favorite candy), and Cinnamon Toast Crunch (my favorite cereal). I had no idea what Bella’s favorite was or if she even _liked_ cereal. And lastly, beer.

I thought I was finished, but then I heard Victoria’s questioning voice inside my head: ‘Are you prepared to work your ass off to make sure she knows that she's the only one you love?’ I changed my mind about the beer and ordered some nice dessert wine instead, and some candles. I made a mental note to call the florist later and arrange to have fresh flowers delivered to the apartment on the 5th.

As I was walking home, I passed Fitness First, the gym on Kingley Street. On the spur of the moment, I doubled back, walked in and set myself up with a personal trainer. My first session was tomorrow morning, on a Saturday, no less. So much for sleeping in.

Somewhere between Ganton Street and home, I decided to renew my New Year’s resolution to quit smoking. At the next convenience store I could find, I bought out their entire stock of nicotine gum.

Later, I remembered that I had no idea in hell how to work the washer and dryer in my apartment, so I was forced to go back out Friday evening just before closing time, and drop off my dirty laundry at the dry cleaners.

Saturday morning was spent at the gym with my new personal trainer who promised me that I would have a six-pack in time for New Moon as long as I did everything he told me. He gave me a low fat-high protein diet to follow and set me up on an exercise regimen that looked guaranteed to kill me instead of make me buff. It didn’t escape my attention that nowhere on my diet was Cinnamon Toast Crunch listed as an allowed food. Beer didn’t appear on my beverage list either. It was going to be a long, miserable journey to get this out-of-shape body of mine ready for the revealing scene in Italy. I wondered, as I dragged my exhausted self home, if the make-up people couldn’t just paint a damned six-pack on my stomach and be done with it. They could work miracles with make-up, right?

Saturday afternoon was spent putting up and organizing all the groceries I’d ordered, and fighting the constant craving for a cigarette. I’d already gone through a third of my gum stash before the day was even through. By that evening, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I went out onto the terrace (because I didn’t want to ruin the nice, clean smell of my apartment), and lit up. I intended to smoke the entire thing, but after only a few puffs, I cursed my weakness, and then ground it out underneath my foot. I went back into the apartment and went through every room pulling out packs of cigarettes and lighters I had stashed in various places. I crushed all of the cigarettes and threw the crumpled packs into the garbage—all except for one lone pack. I kept it, but threw away every single method of lighting them. Then I went outside and tossed the entire bag into the dumpster. To help stave off the jitters, I went out late Saturday afternoon and picked up my laundry, carted it home, and put it all away to the sound of squealing guitars blasting into my head through my iPod.

Sunday morning, I thought I was dying. Everything on my body hurt, and I had to go back to the gym and do it all over again that afternoon. I ran a tub full of the hottest water I could stand, and soaked in it until it was cold. Then I went into the kitchen on autopilot and poured myself a huge bowl of cereal. Only one bite made it into my mouth before I remembered the stupid diet. I ran down the list of approved breakfast foods, and ended up eating hard-boiled eggs and juice for breakfast.

Sunday afternoon was spent at the gym, with new and different parts of my body being subjected to hours of torture. By Sunday evening, I was through. I was caught up on everything that needed to be done, but I was physically exhausted, dying for a cigarette, and bored out of my mind. I knew that if I didn’t find something to occupy myself, I’d start thinking of Bella.

She was going to be here tomorrow right here in this apartment, within touching distance, within smelling distance, within kissing distance. I couldn’t wait to see her. Even if she knocked the hell out of me when I opened the door, at least I’d be close enough to her to look into her chocolate brown eyes. Maybe if I got lucky, I’d get close enough to smell her hair. And if there was a God, and he cared anything at all for His pitiful creation named Robert Pattinson, maybe she’d forgive me and I’d get to kiss those soft lips, and run my hands all over her body, and maybe even make love to her.

 _Rob. You fucking idiot!_ I growled aloud in frustration, and searched the room for something to do, something that would take my mind off of things I shouldn’t be thinking about, things I had absolutely no right to think about. Even if, by some miracle, she did forgive me, I felt certain it would be a long time before she’d let me make love to her again. Some things took longer to forget than others. I could only imagine how I would feel, knowing that my girlfriend had slept with someone else. I’d have a hard time getting that image out of my head. I couldn't imagine that girls would feel any differently.

My eyes landed on the package from Summit: the New Moon script, the perfect thing to take my mind off of Bella. I ripped into it, pulled out the stack of white pages stapled between two blue cover sheets, and got to work. I read it all the way through first, and then went back and concentrated on my parts specifically. Thankfully, I was able to immerse myself completely into the world of Edward Cullen until nearly midnight.

I lay in bed that night, waiting for sleep to come, with the ghostly words of Edward echoing inside my head. They sounded strangely prophetic:

_“I’m no good for you._

_Of course, I’ll always love you…_

_I promise that this will be the last time you’ll see me._

_You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I’d never existed.”_

 

 _Please, God. Let Bella forgive me_ was my last thought before I fell asleep.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 **Monday, January 5, 2009**  


The longest day of my life.

Even the two hours spent at the gym hadn’t help shorten it. Neither had the three hours I’d spent on the New Moon script, or the hour I’d spent playing around on the guitar, or the endless time I’d spent craving a cigarette with every cell in my body. The longest day of my life. Waiting for my cell to ring. Saying every curse word known to man when it rang and it wasn’t her. I loved my sisters and my mum, and I adored my friends, but they weren’t the people I wanted to talk to today.

The restlessness and the boredom were interrupted briefly by the flower delivery. Fresh flowers now graced the small dining room table and the kitchen counter. A huge pot of Calla lilies sat in the floor by my bedroom window. The furniture gleamed with polish, the hardwood floors were clean and shining, the bathroom sparkled, the kitchen was antiseptically spotless and stocked with food, and new candles sat here and there just waiting for the perfect romantic evening. And here I sat on my sofa, a nervous wreck and wondering what in the fuck I’d been thinking when I’d decided to quit smoking two days before Bella’s arrival. By the time the sun had set over Soho, I felt ready to crawl out of my own skin.

Then my cell rang. The words Heathrow Airport appeared in the caller ID. Bella was here, on the same continent as me, in the same city. And in a very short while she was going to be inside the small confines of my apartment, breathing the same air as me. I pushed "accept" and brought the phone to my ear. "Bella?"

_"Hey. I'm here."_

"I'll come and pick you up. Just wait there for me." I struggled to push my feet into my Nikes while holding the phone between my jaw and shoulder.

_"No, Robert. I'll take a taxi. Don't come here. This place is crawling with photographers, and you don't need that."_

"A taxi is going to cost you a fortune," I protested.

_"I have money. I'll be there in a little while. 72 Broadwick Street in Soho, right?"_

I sighed in defeat. "Yeah, on the roof of the National Magazine House. The entrance is near the parking garage."

_"See you in a little while."_

I opened my mouth to say something, but she'd already disconnected the call on her end. A flood of nervous energy suddenly washed over me. I had to move. I had to do something to bleed off the jitters. I ended up pacing the floor of my small living room, my fingers dancing nervously against my thigh.

 _I'd kill for a cigarette right now._ Then a bright idea came out of nowhere. Maybe if I just held one in my fingers it would help. I wouldn't light it. I didn't have any lighters or matches, anyway. I'd thrown them all away. I'd just hold it. Or maybe I'd just stick it between my lips and pretend, like some sort of temporary psychological crutch or something.

And that was what Bella saw when I met her at the door: a nervous, tongue-tied excuse for a man, deep in the throes of nicotine withdrawal, with an unlit cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. At least I'd taken the time to shave this morning. Still, it was a wonder she didn't turn around and run the other way, screaming as she went. But she didn't.

"Hey," she said, with just the tiniest hint of a smile. Or was I imagining that?

"Hey," I answered. And suddenly, all the nervousness was gone. The jitters dissolved like magic at the sound of her voice. It still had that kind of power over me, even after everything that had happened between us.

We stood and stared at each other in silence. The cold January air swirled around her and into the hallway, but I didn't care about heat loss at the moment. I was too busy devouring her with my eyes. She was tired, that much I could tell right away, but she was beautiful, nonetheless. The wind had blown a strand of her hair across her cheek. I longed to reach out and push it back and tuck it behind her ear, but I restrained myself. I had no idea how she'd respond to my touch, not after what I'd done. A large coat hid whatever lay underneath. I wondered what sweater she'd chosen to match her straight-legged jeans. But it was her huge brown eyes that held my attention. They were fixed on my face, and I had no way of knowing what thoughts lay behind them. Then, all of a sudden, she smiled. Just a small smile, but it was like the sun had just burst out from behind a dark cloud.

"Is that some new way of smoking a cigarette?" she asked with a small crooked grin.

I realized then that the unlit cigarette was still dangling from my mouth. I'd completely forgotten about it. "Uh…no.” I chuckled with embarrassment, yanked it from my mouth, and flicked it past her body and out onto the sidewalk outside. "Come on in. It's freezing outside."

She brushed by me, dragging one lone suitcase-on-wheels behind her. I peeked around the door jambs to see if there were more, but that was it. Only one suitcase. I took her coat, hung it by the front door, and asked if she wanted anything to eat or drink. At her polite refusal I gestured her into the living room. She chose to sit in one of the soft chairs and I chose the sofa across from her. The coffee table between us felt as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. I wanted to say _‘I love you and I’ve missed you, and I want to throw this damned coffee table out the window and pull you into my arms. I want to feel the softness of that blue sweater against my hands, and your lips moving along the line of my jaw.’_ But I didn’t say any of that. Instead I said, “You look good.”

“Thanks. So do you,” she said, and then looked around, her eyes moving over every corner of the room. “Your apartment is nice. Very neat and tidy.”

I guffawed softly. “You should have seen it four days ago. I had a New Year’s Eve party. You can imagine what it looked like.”

“Robert.” The serious tone of her voice, as she interrupted me, told me the small talk was already over. “We need to talk about what happened.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight. You’ve had a long flight, and I can tell you’re tired. Get a good night’s sleep and we can talk about in the morning, when you’re rested.”

“No. This can’t wait until in the morning.”

“All right.” I sighed. “Let’s talk, then.” I leaned forward and rested both elbows on my knees, clasped my hands together and gave her my full attention.

“I need answers to some questions, to, you know, settle things in my mind. And I need for you to be perfectly honest with your answers.  Even if those answers are going to hurt me, I still need to hear the truth. You can’t lie to me about anything anymore, Robert. I mean it. If you lie to me about anything, I’m out of here.”

Oh shit. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that this conversation was going to be painful, for both of us. The coward in me just wanted to forget about all the talking and skip to the part where she forgave me and we got on with our life. But somewhere inside of me was the man who desperately wanted to fix this, no matter what it took, no matter how much it hurt.

“I promise, I won’t lie to you. Ask me anything.”

She hesitated and then asked the first question. It sucked the breath right out of me with its directness. “Do you love her?”

How in the hell was I supposed to answer that? A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ wouldn’t even come close to describing what I felt for Kristen.

“The truth, Robert. Do you love her?”

I swallowed nervously. “Yes, but not the same way I love you. I’m not _in love_ with her, Bella. There’s a big difference.”

In an instant her lips were trembling and her eyes were glistening with tears. “Maybe you should explain that difference to me, because I don’t understand it.” She was angry with me already, and we hadn’t even been at this talking thing for two minutes.

“I love her like you love a friend you’ve known for a very long time. It’s nothing more than that.”

“Oh yeah, I think I get it now. You love her in that ‘friends with benefits’ kind of way!” she shouted angrily.

I flinched, but decided to keep my mouth shut, for fear of making matters worse.

“I’m sorry,” she offered as she swiped the tears from her face. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this. I didn’t come all this way to scream at you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for anything. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“All right,” she said, her voice shaky, but determined. “Then just tell me what happened. I need to know how you got from ‘I love you and need you in my life’ to sleeping with Kristen, repeatedly, over the course of ten days.”

I dropped my head into my hands and stared at the floor and my feet. How in the hell was I going to explain this without making things worse? I knew one thing for damned sure. I was going to have to choose my words carefully and still be truthful. Why hadn’t I taken any time the past four days to prepare for what I was going to say?? Talking on the fly was not one of my talents.

“Robert,” she urged me on quietly. “Just begin at the beginning.”

So, that was what I did. I tried to meet her eyes while I explained the attraction I’d felt for Kristen the very first time I’d met her. I wasn’t very successful. I ended up looking everywhere but at her face while I talked. Shame did that to a person.

“My goal from the very beginning was to get her to notice me.” I explained how I admired her acting, and had felt rather inferior around her. “I wanted to impress her. But Catherine warned me from Day One to stay away from her. She was underage and had a boyfriend. So, I listened. I kept things friendly and relaxed. It made it easier to work together that way. But, eventually, I got tired of that and began to prod at her a little bit, to see if, perhaps, she’d consider me, instead of Michael.” I hesitated and then added, “All of this was long before I met you.”

She nodded. “I understand that. Go on.”

“Then I began to push really hard. I think that was about the time that you and I had just started talking. I hadn’t been to visit you yet. I gave her sort of an ultimatum, you know, a 'let’s figure out what this is between us once and for all’ kind of thing. But she turned me down flat. She was still with Michael and wasn’t going to cheat on him. So, I let it drop for awhile. I was getting kind of tired of the rejection anyway.

“And then I went to see _you_ , and that changed everything for me. You threw a monkey wrench into my plans that I didn’t expect. You were such a breath of fresh air after hanging around Hollywood types. You can’t even imagine how shallow some of those girls are. But you were completely different from everybody, even Kristen. I connected with you from the very beginning, starting that night in the bar, like I said in the letter. You did get my letter?”

“Yes, I got it, along with your other gifts. They were very sweet. Thank you.” My eyes automatically dropped to her hand. I think my heart skipped several beats when I saw the Claddagh on her finger. Her eyes followed mine and we stared at it together.

“You like the ring?” I asked. _Stupid question. If she didn’t like it, it wouldn’t be on her finger, you idiot!_

She just nodded. I felt a small glimmer of hope that all was not lost. Then her next question shot that idea right out of the water.

“Who initiated the sex?” she asked quietly.

 _Oh fuck. She wants details??_ I didn’t answer her at first. I searched furiously for an explanation that wouldn’t totally mess everything up.

“It’s a simple question. The answer is either ‘Kristen’ or ‘me’. One of you said ‘Let’s fuck’ and the other one said ‘Okay, sure’. Who initiated it?” she asked again, her brown eyes fixed intently on my face. I could sense anger simmering just below the surface.

“It was a lot more complicated than you make it sound.”

She sighed and shook her head in disbelief. “Of course it was.” She snorted ironically. “Just start from the beginning then, since it’s such a complicated story.”

Damn. This was not going the way I had envisioned it. I’d never even considered that she’d want details about me and Kris. The jitters were back. I needed a cigarette in the worst way. I grabbed the one remaining cigarette pack that I had left from the coffee table, and pulled one out. I held it between my fingers like a drowning man clutching at a lifeline, while I tried to explain how an attempt to comfort someone who was coming completely apart at the seams had turned into eight days of sex.

“You have to know Kristen. She’s a strong person, very focused and driven. She knows what she wants and she goes after it. She’s confident, ambitious, and tough as nails. I respected and even envied those traits in her, because I’m nothing like that. I was just trying to cope on a day-to-day basis with the crowds and the screaming, and she breezed through it like it was nothing. At least, I thought she did.

“After the London premiere, she came to my room. I thought she just wanted to wind down, you know, talk about the interviews or about our schedule the next day. We do that quite often, by the way.” I snuck a look at Bella to gauge her reaction to that. No response. So I continued.

“Then she just fell apart on me. Literally, right there in my room. She was crying and sobbing about how she couldn’t take the pressure anymore. It caught me completely off guard. So I did the only thing I knew to do, the same thing I’d do for anyone in that situation. I tried to calm her down and get her to talk about it, anything to get her to stop crying.”

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Somehow, I didn’t think Bella was buying into my Good Samaritan story.

“Look me in the eye, Robert and just answer me.”

I did. I stared right at her and told her the truth. “She initiated it, and I didn’t do anything to stop it.”

Bella bolted out of the chair and went to stand by the living room window with her back to me. She couldn’t see anything but her reflection in the glass, but I suspected it was mostly to get away from me rather than a desire to see the night sky of London.

“It wasn’t like we planned it. We didn’t go on the press junket with that idea in mind. It just happened.” I jabbed the cigarette in my mouth and automatically reached for the nonexistent lighter in my pocket. I swore softly when I realized what I was doing. I yanked the damned thing out of my mouth and threw it onto the coffee table in disgust. My gum was lying on the kitchen counter, but now was not the time to get up and leave to get it.

“Did you not think of me at all when you were with her?” she asked in a small, defeated voice. I stared at her back, wishing she would turn around, but afraid of what I’d see if she did. I could hear the hurt in her voice. It cut through me like a knife.

“I couldn’t get you out of my mind, actually. But, I’m not going to lie to you. I tried like hell to forget you, but I couldn’t. Everywhere I turned, something reminded me of you. That night I called you and I was drunk? That was because they were playing Van Morrison at the after-party. It reminded me of our first night together, and getting plastered was the only way I could get your face out of my head. So, yeah, I thought about you. A lot.

“I tried to convince myself that I had what I wanted and letting go of you was for the best. Kristen was experienced in dealing with this craziness. You weren’t. She could be there for me all the time. You couldn’t. You had a life back in Washington to live. Kristen would move in with me, probably. You didn’t want to. I came up with all kinds of reasons in my head why Kristen would be the better choice. Unfortunately, my heart was telling me something different. I just fucked up, like I always seem to do, and didn’t listen to it. I messed up, Bella. That’s all I can say in my defense. I’m just sorry I had to hurt you in the process.”

The room was quiet for a long time after that. I wanted more than anything to go to her and put my arms around her, but I was scared to death to touch her. So I sprawled back on the sofa and looked at the ceiling while she stood by the window and cried.

“Has she been here? Sat on your sofa? Slept in your bed?” she asked, finally turning to face me.

“No, she hasn’t. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since we said our goodbyes in the Summit parking lot before Christmas. She left me a voice mail on New Year’s Eve, but I didn’t listen to it or call her back. I swear to you, that’s the truth.”

“Why aren’t you two together? What happened?” she asked, walking back across the room and sitting once again in the chair across from me.

“Turned out she felt about Michael the same way I felt about you. They’d broken up, but I didn’t know that at the time. She said that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, just like I couldn’t stop thinking about _you_. He’s what she needs, just like you’re what I need. We were both lying to each other the whole time, and neither one of us realized it until later. So, she went back to him when we got home.”

She shook her head in disbelief, and snorted in disgust. It almost seemed as if she was upset at Kristen for dumping me, but I wasn’t going to go there. I wasn’t even going to try and explain the things Kristen had told me in her letter. I didn’t want it to look like I was defending her.

“If she called you tomorrow and said she and Michael were through and she wanted to start things up with you again, would you consider it?”

This one was easy to answer. I didn’t even have to think about it. “No,” I stated flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” she immediately asked.

The answer flew out of my mouth before I even thought of the implications of it. “Because I could never trust her.”

“Exactly,” she said softly. She held my eyes as the meaning of that statement sunk in: Bella could never trust me either.

I started to say something in my defense—like the fact that I would be willing to do anything to win back her trust—but she ended the conversation with the announcement that she was tired and just wanted to go to bed.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I can get a hotel room if you’d rather me not stay here. I have enough money.”

“No. You’re not paying for a motel. You can stay here as long as you need to. My bedroom’s at the end of the hall.”

I’d already resigned myself to the fact that my ass was sleeping on the sofa, which was two feet shorter than my whole body, and as hard as a sidewalk. I’d have much rather been curled up with her in my bed, but at this point, I wasn’t holding my breath anymore. The conversation hadn’t ended on a very positive note. No mention of forgiveness, or picking up where we’d left off. She hadn’t given me anything to hold onto except for the fact that she was wearing the ring I’d bought her. That was the only thing that gave me any hope that we might be able to fix things. If she hated my guts, would she have even bothered to wear it?

I watched her walk out of the room, turned out the light, and then stretched out on the sofa with my feet dangling off the end. I stared at the ceiling for a very long time and thought about her until I fell asleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. The apartment was quiet, except for the soft ticking sound of the radiator giving off heat. Once again I was dying for a cigarette. How fucking long did it take for the craving to go away?! I tiptoed into the kitchen, and without turning on the light, fumbled around until I found the nicotine gum on the counter. Back in the living room, I pulled another cigarette out of my one remaining pack and went over to the window to stare out into the night.

I did what I often did just out of habit: I pulled the table closer to the window and sat on top of it, my feet resting in the chair where my ass should have been. It gave me the perfect vantage point to look out the window over the city. With the apartment totally dark, the outside was clearly visible through the glass. Soho never slept. There were always people out and about at clubs and late-night restaurants. The lights of apartments and businesses still lit up the night. The sky was clear and filled with stars. And Bella was in the other room. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being so close, but yet so far. I held the unlit cigarette between my fingers and sat in the darkness, waiting for morning, or exhaustion, whichever came first…

\----------------------------------------------------------------

**~ BELLA ~**

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night and didn’t know where I was. It took a minute for everything to come back: the agonizingly long plane ride, the confusion of Heathrow Airport, the slow crawl of the taxi through the streets of London, the sight of Robert standing at his door looking at me with those beautiful blue-gray eyes of his, and with that unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth. I’d felt a rush of heat from my neck all the way down to my thighs as soon as I’d laid eyes on him.

It had taken every bit of strength I’d had to have “the conversation” with him. All I’d wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and pretend none of this shit had happened. But Angie’s words kept bouncing around in my head: ‘I’d want to know what happened’. And I did. I wanted to know, and I _needed_ to know before I could decide what to do.

Now that I’d heard the whole story, I’d finally come to a decision, after tossing and turning in his bed for nearly two hours. The fact that the blanket smelled like his cologne had made it difficult to concentrate, but I’d kept at it—weighing the pros and cons, looking at the situation from all directions—until I’d finally made up my mind.

I tossed and turned for awhile longer before I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. The change in time zones had messed up my internal clock. I got out of bed, intending to sneak into the kitchen to get a drink of water, when I heard soft singing coming from the living room. I peeked around the corner of the doorway leading into the room and saw him. He was sitting on top of his dining room table, over near the window. His shirtless back was facing me. His long legs were propped up in a chair, and he was very quietly singing. I strained to hear the lyrics, and recognized them immediately. It was Van Morrison’s _Tupelo Honey._

I tiptoed across the room in socked feet until I was right behind him. “Robert,” I said softly.

He jumped, turned to face me and was clearly startled to see me. “Bella! You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing awake? It’s the middle of the night.”

Instead of answering him, I walked around in front of him, moved the chair that held his feet away to the side, and stood between his open legs. My body was pressed against the table, and my eyes were nearly level with his. “What are you doing awake?”

“Just looking at the city,” he answered softly, shrugging his bare shoulders. I noticed that he was holding another unlit cigarette between the fingers of his right hand.

“London is your Moulton Falls, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It smoothes the rough edges for me, or at least it used to.” Then he sighed and brought the unlit cigarette to his lips. For some reason, that made me smile.

“What’s with the unlit cigarettes?"  I chuckled softly. 'Are you too broke to buy a lighter?” 

“No. I’m trying to quit. Someone once told me it was bad for me.” Then he smiled a sad sort of smile and dipped his head like he often did when he was uncomfortable or feeling shy. That was when my heart melted like an ice cream cone in summer. It melted all over the damned place, and I realized right at that very moment that I loved this man, no matter what his faults or what he’d done.

I pulled the cigarette from his mouth. His eyes followed every movement of my hand as I let it drop to the floor. They fluttered shut as I lightly trailed my fingers up both of his arms and across his shoulders to both sides of his neck. I traced an imaginary line across his jaw. He'd shaved, but the finest bit of stubble was just beginning to make an appearance. Then I ran a thumb lightly across his bottom lip, then across his top lip. He sat perfectly still, his hands lying loose on his thighs, and allowed me to run my fingers over every inch of his face. It was almost as if he was afraid to respond to my touch. So I made the first move. I kissed him, a soft and gentle touching of lips. No demands, just the warm contact of two mouths.

That was all it took. When I pulled away, he pulled me roughly back, and scooted his hips forward on the table as far as he could until I was wedged between his thighs. One hand snaked around my back, and the other slid underneath the hem of my short gown. The contact between our bodies wasn't exactly where I'd liked it to have been, but it was close enough to bring forth a soft moan out of both of us. Then he kissed me hard and deep, and so damned thoroughly that soft whimpers began to rise up out of my throat and pour into his mouth. We were both breathing heavy when we finally broke apart.

“Can you forgive me?” he whispered. His ragged breaths were hot against my cheek.

“You were already forgiven, or I wouldn’t even be here,” I whispered back. “I just had to know.”

Instead of kissing me again like I thought he would, he gathered me fiercely into his arms and buried his face in my hair. There was so much unspoken emotion flowing between us, and suddenly it gushed out of me like a torrent. I couldn’t hold on to the guilt over my behavior any longer. The tears flowed, and I couldn’t stop them. He pulled me back so he could see my face. I saw confusion and hurt in his eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

Then it all just poured out of me. “I hit you! God, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I hit you!” I kept apologizing over and over in tearful sobs. He held me against his bare chest and assured me that I had nothing to apologize for. He reminded me many times as he stroked my hair that he’d deserved it. That he’d deserved much worse than what I’d given him, and that I should never feel bad about hitting him. He even told me that if he ever did anything to hurt me again, I was to hit him twice as hard and as many times as I wanted to. By the time he got to the part about buying me a pair of boxing gloves so I wouldn’t hurt my hand the next time, I was laughing, and then he was laughing too, and wiping my tears away.

Somehow, the laughter evolved into something else. We both grew quiet and stared at each other in the darkness for a very long time, like we were two strangers just getting to know each other, even though I knew every inch of this beautiful man’s face as well as I knew my own. Electricity charged the air between us. I was agonizingly aware of his body so close against mine and of the pressure of his hands on my back. The feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him, and those gorgeous eyes of his took my breath away.

“You need to sleep in your own bed,” I said softly.

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I answered, and then smiled.

He smiled back with that crooked smile that melted women’s hearts all over the world. The muscles down deep in my center clenched hard and sharp at the thought of what was coming next.

 


	30. Where I Belong

**~ ROB ~**

After sitting on the table in the dark for who knows how long, I zoned out. I was staring out the window into the night, but I wasn’t really seeing anything. I was looking into the past and remembering Bella and I sitting in her window seat, our legs tangled together in the middle, listening to my iPod and singing together. Van Morrison’s _Tupelo Honey_ playing in my ear and some of the best kissing I’d ever experienced. And then…

 _“This isn’t the reason I came here. I want you to know that,” I whispered._  
_“It isn’t the reason I invited you here, either,” she whispered back._

The electricity of that moment—the moment when we’d both known we were going to end up in bed together—was something I’d never forget, no matter what eventually happened between me and Bella. I closed my eyes and could almost hear her soft, hesitant voice, as if she were standing right next to me:

_“I’ve never done this before.”_

Even now, just the thought of those words sent chills all over me. I’d been scared to death at the thought of being her first.

_“I need you in my life.”_

My words to her that last weekend we’d spent together had been true then and they were still true now, even though she probably didn’t believe me. How could I have forgotten the feelings of those nights? How could I have cast them aside like they’d meant nothing, just to be with Kristen? The fact that I had even tried was a true testament to how much of an idiot I really was.

 _“I’m here….There’s a secret place in your heart where I’ll always be. No matter where you are, you can find me there.”_ Bella’s parting words to me before I’d left for Europe, and no truer words had ever been spoken. No matter how much I’d tried to forget her she’d always been there. The sound of her voice, her face, the smell of her hair, the feel of her body against mine when we’d made love. I hadn’t been able to forget any of it.  No doubt about it, the girl was under my skin… _bad._ If she decided to call it quits and walk out of my life, getting over her was going to be hell.

I sighed aloud and forcibly brought my thoughts back to the present and the darkened apartment. I was only making things worse for myself by dwelling on the past. The last thing I needed right now was an aching hard-on and no way to relieve it. And thinking of the nights we’d spent together, especially that first night, was definitely a surefire way to bring one on. What I really needed was to get back on that couch and try to sleep, but I was too jumpy to even consider it. The nicotine withdrawal was killing me and holding an unlit cigarette wasn’t helping at all.

Out of sheer boredom, I started singing softly to myself. If I’d have been alone, I would have gotten out my guitar and played until I collapsed from exhaustion. It wouldn’t have been the first time my guitar and I had passed a sleepless night together. But I didn’t want to wake Bella. I’d endured that long flight from Los Angeles to England more times than I cared to remember, and it wreaked havoc on your body. She needed her sleep, so I satisfied myself with singing. And before I knew it, I was back where I’d started. Van Morrison’s songs seemed to be the only ones I wanted to sing, and those, of course, reminded me of Bella, especially “Tupelo Honey”. But I couldn’t help myself. I sang it anyway.

“Robert.”

I jumped out of my skin at suddenly hearing a voice in the room. I turned around to find Bella standing behind the table I was perched on. “Bella, god, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing awake? It’s the middle of the night!”

Instead of answering me, she walked around the table, moved the chair that my feet were sitting in off to the side, and then stood between my legs. I drank in the sight of her with one quick head-to-toe sweep. If there was ever a nightgown guaranteed to deflate even the hardest of erections, she was wearing it: a baggy, shapeless number that hung mid thigh, with a weird picture on the front that I couldn’t make out. But for some strange reason, my dick never got that memo. I suddenly had a major blood rush going on, and it felt like someone had turned the heat on full blast inside my body.

“What are you doing awake?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Just looking at the city.” Which paled in comparison to her. That thick brown hair was mussed from sleep, and what I really wanted to do was run my hands all through it, tangle it between my fingers and bury my face in it. She was standing close enough for me to barely catch a whiff of that smell that always reminded me of her. I was aching to touch her, but was too scared to.

“London is your Moulton Falls, isn’t it?” she asked. Her question startled me. For her to even make that comparison meant that she already had some sense of what gave me inner peace. I couldn’t believe that she knew me so well after so short a time.

“Yeah, it smooths the rough edges for me. Or at least it used to.” I sighed. What I left unspoken was that nothing gave me peace anymore, not even my home. And it was my own damned fault. Partly out of frustration, but mostly out of habit, I jabbed the unlit cigarette into my mouth. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

Then she smiled and my whole perspective shifted. I had no fucking idea what I’d said or done to bring on that smile, but it brought warmth into that small space we were both occupying. It brought hope.

“What’s with the unlit cigarettes? Are you too broke to buy a lighter?” She chuckled, the smile still in place.

“No. I’m trying to quit. Someone once told me it was bad for me.” I smiled half-heartedly, the cigarette still dangling out of my mouth, and stared at the floor as the memory of that night in her hotel parking lot flashed through my mind. _“You really shouldn’t smoke, Robert. It’s not good for you.”_ It seemed like years ago that she’d said that to me, but it had only been a little over a month and a half ago. So much had changed in so short a time.

She pulled the cigarette from my mouth and I froze. My body went completely still while my heart started to pound out of my chest. Suddenly I felt like I’d been dropped down into the middle of a slow-motion scene in a movie. Everything slowed down to a crawl. My eyes followed her hand as she lowered it to her side and dropped the cigarette to the floor. I followed it back up and watched in disbelief as she laid her fingers on my arm, and then on the other arm. I couldn’t believe she was touching me this way so soon after what had happened.  I shut my eyes as she trailed her fingers lightly up both of my arms. My entire body suddenly came alive. Chill bumps raced across my skin. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and down my arms. The faint pulse of an erection began to blossom between my legs along with a growing sense of euphoria stealing over my mind. _Has she forgiven me? Is she going to let me make love to her?_

Her fingertips moved across the tops of my shoulders and up both sides of my neck. A lone finger trailed a delicate line along my jaw, across my bottom lip, then across my top lip. That faint pulse was growing steadily as all of the blood in my body rushed south.  I sat perfectly still with my eyes still closed, and enjoyed the feel of her fingers running lightly over my face. I was dying to touch her, but I had to be sure that was what she wanted. So, I kept my hands on my thighs and waited for her to make the first move, if she was even going to.

I didn’t have long to wait. I sensed her moving closer without even opening my eyes, and next thing I knew she was kissing me. Not a deep kiss, just a very light touching of our mouths. But that little bit was all I’d needed. When she pulled away, I lost it. Something snapped inside of me, like someone had suddenly threw a switch and the floodlights came on. A rush of heat raced through my entire body as I pulled her roughly back against me. I scooted my thighs forward on the table and wrapped my arms around her. One hand made it underneath her gown and down into the back of her panties, and the other around her back, and with both of them I pressed her hips as close to mine as I could get them. I realized somewhere in the back of my mind that I was on my way to being seriously-fucking-out-of-my-mind insane. But, God, I wanted her so damned bad, and the angle of our bodies was entirely fucked up. But that didn’t seem to matter to my dick. As soon as her hips were enclosed between my thighs, the throbbing between my legs became almost unbearable. My jeans were hurting like hell and I was dying to unbutton them and get some relief.

But first things first. Her mouth. That beautiful mouth was so close, and I had to have it. I had to completely own that mouth with my tongue, my teeth and my lips. I kissed her so fucking hard it was unbelievable. I’d never kissed anyone like that in my life. In the back of my mind, I thought maybe it was too much, but then she started making those beautiful sounds that drove me completely wild, those tiny whimpers coming from down deep in her throat mingled with low moans as my tongue dove into her mouth again and again.

I moaned when I realized just how fucking close I was to coming, right there on that table in my jeans, and from nothing more than just kissing her. Finally, from some remote part of my mind, an invisible hand reached out and yanked my dying ass back from the cliff’s edge. I somehow managed to find the strength to break the contact. She was panting heavily and trembling, her breath misting over my face, hot and so full of need. I was doing the same thing, gasping and struggling to keep my sanity as I forced myself to pull back and let my body calm down a little. 

“Can you forgive me, Bella?” I whispered when I was finally able to form a coherent sentence. I wanted her so damn bad that it was killing me to wait, but I had to know first if I was forgiven. I had to know if she was truly giving me another chance.

“You were already forgiven, or I wouldn’t even be here,” she whispered back. “I just had to know.”

At that moment, everything in the universe tilted back in my direction. The worrying, the nervous tension and the guilt that had been eating me alive from the inside and fucking up my entire life seemed like a distant memory now. It was as if a great burden had suddenly been lifted off of my shoulders. The relief was enormous and overwhelming.  I gathered her into my arms, buried my face in her hair and held on to her for dear life, squeezing my eyes shut and silently thanking whoever had intervened on my behalf. She was holding me just as tightly, her fingers digging into my neck and back as she clung to me. The emotion flowing silently between us was raw and intense and like nothing I’d ever felt with anyone else before.

And then her body started to tremble in my arms. A choked sob against my neck and the tightening of her arms around me let me know something was horribly wrong. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what I had done to cause the tears that were now pouring out of her and wetting my bare skin. I tugged at her body and finally got her to let go of me so I could see her face. She was a complete mess, with tear stained cheeks, tangled hair and a runny nose to top it all off.

“Why are you crying?”

And then it all just poured out of her. Huge gulping sobs interspersed with apology after apology after apology.

“I hit you, Robert! God, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I hit you!” she sobbed.

I couldn’t believe she was crying over that of all things. “Bella, no, honey, no,” I crooned softly, pulling her back against my chest. “Don’t you dare cry over that.” I cradled her in my arms and continued to softly chastise her for upsetting herself over something that I’d totally deserved.

I stroked her hair and rocked with her in the dark as I tried to get her to stop. The idea that she could even feel guilty about the slaps shocked the hell out of me. How could anyone be this good? I was an asshole. She didn’t deserve this guilt she’d been holding inside of her because of me.

“Bella, god, I deserved much worse than a busted lip,” I murmured softly into her hair. “You should have balled up your fist and hit me right in the nose. Shit, you should have broken my nose, okay? I deserved it. I deserved everything you gave me and more.”

She continued to cry softly against my chest as I searched for the right words to make this stop. “Don’t ever feel bad about hitting me, Bella. Ever.” I pulled her away from me again and took her face between my hands. I made her look at me. “If I ever do anything like that to hurt you again, you have my permission to hit me with everything you’ve got. Hit me twice as hard as you did, and as many times as you can. You hear me, Bella? I mean it. Just knock the shit right out of me, and don’t forget about the nuts, okay? Kick me in the nuts, too, good and hard. I won’t even try and protect them. I’ll just stand there and let you do it.”

I heard a whispered ‘Robert’ somewhere in between her dwindling tears. I think I might have even seen a small smile starting to grow, too. I pressed forward, taking full advantage of the lull in the tears.

“Hell, I’ll even buy you a pair of boxing gloves so you won’t hurt your hand next time, even though there’s not going to be a next time,” I said. That did it. I guess the combination nuts and boxing gloves finally did it. A smile blossomed on her face, followed by a laugh. Before I knew what was happening, we were both laughing as she wiped the tears from her face with the hem of her gown. I tried to pretend I didn’t see that flash of panty while she dabbed at her face, or that smooth flat stomach just above it, or the bottom swell of her breast peeking out from underneath one side of the raised gown.

And then, for some reason, we quit laughing. We both got really quiet and just stared at each other in the darkness for a very long time. I lingered over every part of her face: her soft brown eyes, swollen and puffy from crying, her dark lashes thick and lush without the help of mascara, but matted together with drying tears, her small delicate nose, reddened at the tip, also from crying, her mouth, which was slightly swollen where I’d kissed the hell out of it earlier. She definitely didn’t look her best, but at that moment she couldn’t have been more beautiful to me. No fashion model with perfect hair and makeup could have taken her place and made me any happier.

The intense rush of before had died down somewhat during our conversation. The aching was gone, along with the discomfort of my too tight jeans. Or I’d thought it was gone, because with just one sentence she brought it all back with a vengeance.

“You need to sleep in your own bed, Robert,” she said softly. The blood rushed to my groin again at an alarming rate from just the quietness of her voice, and the intense look she was giving me along with it.

“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly.

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” she answered, and then smiled.

I smiled back and then nudged her backward so I could slide off of the table. I wanted that gown off of her and her body in full contact with mine. I gathered that cotton up into my hands until I reached the hem and then I pulled it up over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her hair crackled softly with static as it fell back around her shoulders. She wiggled out of the panties and let them dribble down her legs. Then she stepped out of them and back. She was standing before me now totally nude, and I saw no evidence of that shy girl from Vancouver. That girl was gone. I wondered briefly if I was going to miss her, but the look in Bella’s eyes made me think not.

“Make love to me Robert,” she said quietly. “Show me I’m the only one you love.”

As if there was any doubt at this point. She stepped closer and began slowly undoing the buttons of my jeans. I looked down between our two bodies and watched as her fingers work at the denim. My erection was back and already gloriously straining behind the restrictive cloth. I sighed deeply when she finally undid the last button of my fly, giving my throbbing dick some much needed relief.

Then I pulled her whole body against me and wrapped my arms totally around her. I leaned my head over her shoulder and slid my fingers over the silky skin of her beautiful ass. My jeans were still on and hanging low on my hips, but I could feel her through the thin cotton of my boxers. She felt amazing. So soft in all the places that I was hard. So yielding and pliant as she very gently undulated her body against mine. _God, I love this girl._

“I won’t ever hurt you like that again, Bella,” I whispered against her hair. “I promise.”

She pulled away from me and laid a finger on my lips. She silently shook her head and then whispered, “No more apologies. I want you to show me, Robert.”

She grabbed the index finger of one of my hands and led me from the living room. I purposely dragged my feet so that I ended up walking behind her. Solely for the view, of course, and it was one beautiful view: long brown hair coursing halfway down her back, and the oh-so-subtle side-to-side swing of her hips as she walked. My Bella didn’t have to strut her stuff like some skinny-assed runway model. She was sexy as hell without even trying.

We made a pit stop in the kitchen so she could get a drink of water. She laughed softly as she told me that’s what she’d gotten up for in the first place, but then someone had distracted her with his singing. She stood at the kitchen sink with her back to me and downed a glass of water. I stood behind her and continued to stare at the view as the most god-awful dick-hardening guy fantasies started running through my mind.

I shucked my jeans off as she sat the empty glass down on the counter. I stepped up behind her and moaned as her whole body sunk back against mine. She leaned her head back against my chest and relaxed while my hands ran up and down the front of her body. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the feel of her smooth skin underneath my fingers. I kneaded her breasts with both hands, over and over again. Squeezing hard and then running my palms over their hardened tips. Then squeezing hard again. Then I ran my hands down to her center as far between her legs as my fingers could reach. She moved her back and hips across my thighs, grinding her body against my dick as hard as she could.

“Shit, Bella,” I cursed softly into her hair. “You can’t even imagine the things I want to do to you right now.” 

“Tell me,” she said, as she laid her hands on top of mine and guided them to where she wanted them to go.

So I did. I let my dick open his mouth and do the talking, which was an incredibly stupid move on my part. “I want to just lay you down on the floor, spread your legs wide open and fuck the hell out of you, hard and fast,” I whispered, as both of our hands massaged her breasts. “I want to bend you over that dining room table and pound into you from behind, and fuck you so hard you scream.” I moaned as my fingers probed between her legs. And on and on I went with seemingly no end in sight. One horrifying horny-bastard-guy-fantasy after another, all heavily laced with the words “fuck” and “hard” and “cum”, and all as far from romantic as a man could get, especially for a man who had a hell of a lot of atoning to do.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, someone started screaming his head off at me. My conscience perhaps? _Rob! Oh my god, shut up! Shut the fuck up!! Shut your filthy fucking mouth, why don’t you! You wanted this to be romantic and all you can talk about is fucking her hard?! Bending her over the furniture and pounding her ass?! Cumming all over her stomach??! Bella deserves better than that!_

I groaned and then pulled away from her. I leaned back against the countertop and stared at the floor, completely ashamed of myself for letting this get completely out of hand.

She came to stand in front of me and tugged at my chin. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, disgusted with myself. “I’m sorry about all that shit that just came out of my mouth. That was uncalled for.”

She laughed softly. “I didn’t see anything wrong with it.” Then she paused. “Oh my God, you’re blushing. You’re actually blushing.” She held my face between her hands and what I saw in her eyes shocked me. “Do you have any idea on this earth how sexy you are to me right this very minute, Robert Thomas Pattinson?” 

I couldn’t help but frown. “I wanted this to be special. Romantic. Not some fuck fest or something. This means more to me than just that.”

“Take me to bed, Robert,” she said quietly, my face still held between her hands. “Take me to bed and do whatever you feel you have to do to show me that I’m the woman you want by your side. I want to be completely sure about that when you’re done with me.”

 _Holy shit. Holy fucking shit!!_ Chill bumps rose up all over me, and my dick came back out of the gate again in full throb mode. Could anyone be any sexier than this girl standing in front of me?? What the hell had I been thinking when I’d cheated on her??

\-------------------------------------------

  
We were leaned up against the wall of my bedroom, right beside the door, her with her back pushed up against the sheetrock, and me stuck all over the front of her body like glue. I was completely nude now---my boxers were lying in the floor somewhere outside the kitchen doorway, and my socks lying here and there in the hall. But I didn’t care about any of that at the moment. Right now all I was focused on was her hand and what it was slowly and rhythmically doing between my legs.

I took it as long as I could before reluctantly pulling her hand away. “That feels so good, Bella, but I can’t handle any more of that,” I groaned.

Then she guided my fingers down her stomach to the soft mound between her thighs. I slid my hand further down, and murmured a string of soft curses when my fingers came away slick and wet. My god, she was drenched. Even the insides of her thighs were wet from it. Never in my life had a woman been so ready for me. I let loose an incredibly long moan at just the thought of sliding myself deep inside of that.

She began to move her hips against my fingers, and I knew what she wanted. She was clinging to me, with one arm thrown around my neck, and her other hand gripping my forearm, guiding the movement of my hand. My fingers repeatedly brushed across that swollen part of her that I knew was bound to be aching as bad as my dick. Over and over I slid across it. She threw her head back against the wall and groaned quietly, and then dropped it back against my chest, whimpering rhythmically as my hand moved. I increased the pressure of my fingers, as well as the speed. She was so close. I could feel the tension in every muscle of her body.

Suddenly she gritted her teeth. “No!” she growled, and then yanked my hand away. “No, Robert, stop,” she panted, her chest heaving. “I want you inside of me when I come.”

I wasn’t going to argue with her at this point. I’d had way too many false starts tonight, and as a result I was beginning to feel some serious pain in the head of my dick. I needed relief in the worst way. I had to be inside of her…now.

I pulled her over to the bed, and ended up flat on my back, with her straddling my hips, my favorite position. I wanted to watch her; I wanted to run my hands all over her while she moved; I wanted to run my fingers through her hair when it fell across her face; I wanted to massage her breasts while she rode me. So many possibilities with this position.  

“I’m not going to last very long, Robert,” she gasped breathlessly.

What the fuck ever.! At this point, I didn’t care about dragging things out. I was way past that line in the sand. All I wanted was to feel that wet heat of her surrounding me.

She adjusted the position of her legs and then guided me slowly inside of her. And by slowly, I mean slowly, centimeter by fucking centimeter slowly. It felt like a burning hot vice grip was squeezing and grinding its way slowly down to where my dick sprang out of my body. I dug my head back into the softness of the mattress, squeezed my eyes shut, and started groaning my fucking ass off the second I made contact with her body until I was all the way in.

At that point, the pain started to subside a little and a thought pushed its way past the blinding lust and into my head: This is where I belong.

“This is where _we_ belong, Robert,” she whispered huskily. Evidently I’d done more than think it. I managed to raise my head just enough to catch her eyes. All I could do was nod and add a breathless ‘fuck, yes’ and then drop my head back to the bed.

She started moving. Long slow strokes that took her body from the bottom of my dick all the way back up until I was almost completely out of her and then back down again. She was doing this tightening thing on the way up that was about to drive me insane, it felt so good. And then there was that light brush of skin at the end. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about Bella’s knack for turning sex into torture. It was all coming back to me now, and I was loving the fucking hell out of it.

I wanted this to last all night, but there was no way that was going to happen. Bella was close already. I could tell by how tightly her legs were clamped against my outer thighs, and by the deep moans that were now pouring out of her throat. When she started whispering sentences laced with the word ‘fuck’, I knew this was going to go quick. When she started that shit, I was gone. She sent me to a whole different planet with that soft and sexy profanity of hers.

And then I started hearing my name, over and over again. I opened my eyes to watch her, although that was probably a mistake. Sweat was beading on her forehead from the exertion. I tugged on her shoulders to get her to lean forward a little. I wanted my hands on her. I wanted to feel that shiver ripple across her body when that last moment arrived.

Instead, she grabbed my hand and thrust it between her legs. My dick jerked inside of her at the contact of my fingers with her wetness. Just a few slow circles of my thumb across that swollen bud of skin was all it took. She went, and went over hard, screaming with the most intense orgasm she’d ever had with me—hot, hard contractions gripping and releasing me, over and over and over again. I rode it with her, growling loudly between my clenched teeth as I fought the overwhelming urge to come with her. I didn’t want this to be over. I wanted to give her more of what she feeling right now.

She finally collapsed against my chest. I was hanging perilously close to the edge, but was still in the fight. I almost had it under control, if I could just keep her still long enough.

“Don’t move, Bella,” I gasped harshly, my voice shaking with need. “God, please. Don’t move a muscle. Just keep still.”

She froze everything from below the waist down. The strain of her deep breaths, the frantic beating of her heart against my chest and her small quiet whimpers were the only things I heard or felt. The pressure was backing off. I almost had it whipped, when…

“Robert, oh god you’re so fucking hard,” she groaned softly.

That was it. It was over. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to. I slid my hands really quick down her back and roughly gripped her hips. My fingers dug into her skin. I thrust into her so hard she gasped at the force of it. One…two…three times was all it took. I exploded inside of her with a hoarse cry of complete and utter joy. I rose up and gathered her into my arms, crushing her body to my chest as I came over and over and over again, the spasms of my release seeming to never end. In the midst of all of that, she came again, and finally, together we fell back onto the bed in an exhausted tangle of legs and arms and hair, heaving chests and pounding hearts.

Neither one of us said a word for a long time after that. She finally slid off my hips and stretched out alongside of me. I grabbed her hand, threaded my fingers in with hers, and just closed my eyes and savored the moment. The ordinary sounds around me were just now starting to come back, as the deafening pounding of my heart inside my head and my thighs began to slowly recede. I felt her fingers slide out from between mine. The shifting of the bed and the soft pad of her feet on the floor told me she was heading to the bathroom. Once again, I thanked God I didn’t have to get up, and wondered how in the hell she managed it every time. She always left me completely wiped out and unable to move.

By the time she came back, I’d sunk into a state of total bliss. My body was completely relaxed, my mind was sluggish, and fatigue was pushing to get in. She lay down on her side facing me, so I turned over and faced her. I managed a smile. She managed one back. We stared silently at each other for a long while. Our fingers touched and then twined together, our feet ended up doing the same thing.

Finally I broke the silence, but kept my voice soft and quiet. “Stay with me, Bella. Not just for tonight, but for as long as I’m in London.”

She nodded. “I will.”

I squeezed her fingers and smiled at her answer. “I want you with me in Vancouver when I shoot New Moon.”

She nodded again. “I’ll be there.”

“New York in the summer?”

She smiled. “Wherever, Robert. I’ll be there supporting you.”

And with those words, everything in my life settled back into its proper place. “I love you,” I said. “And I am never going to put us through anything like this again. I swear.”

“Sssh,” she said, putting her finger over my lips. “No more, Robert. I mean it. That’s behind us now.”

“So, are you completely sure?” I asked. When she gave me rather confused look, I clarified. “You said when I was done you wanted to be completely sure. I was just checking.”

She giggled softly and ran a finger lightly along the side of my face. “Oh yeah, I’m sure. I think that was better than the first time. What do you think?”

“Definitely,” I answered, and I wasn’t laughing. “I think both of us realized that we came so close to losing something really special and that made it more intense. What do you think?”

“Oh, Robert.” She sighed as her fingers glided through my hair. “That’s exactly what it was. God, I love you, Robert Thomas Pattinson.”

After that, conversation started to lag. Bella’s eyelids were getting heavy, and I knew the jet lag was catching up with her finally. I watched her drift off to sleep and then rolled over onto my back, waiting for it to take me as well, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Thirty minutes later, the afterglow was completely gone and I was wide awake dying for a cigarette.

“Robert, what are you doing?” Bella groaned sleepily. I realized then that I’d unconsciously been beating out a steady nervous rhythm against my thigh with my fingers.

“Sorry, I’ll stop. Go back to sleep,” I whispered.

Trouble was, I couldn’t stop. If Bella was going to get any rest, I was going to have to get up out of this bed and pace the floor for awhile, and chew the hell out of some nicotine gum. So, I slid very carefully out from underneath the covers and stole out of the bedroom without disturbing her. I found my boxers in the floor outside the kitchen and put them on. Then my jeans lying in the floor by the sink. Then my shirt hanging off the edge of the living room sofa.

I spied the nearly empty cigarette pack lying on the coffee table, so I grabbed one and jabbed it in my mouth. I headed back to the kitchen for the gum. But while I was in there, my eyes settled on the stove eye. All it would take was one twist of a button and I’d have the mother of all cigarette lighters.

Right at that moment, I decided I was sick of feeling like shit and wanting to jump out of my skin all the time. So, I turned the eye on and lit up. Then I headed out of the kitchen, into the living room, switched on a lamp and dimmed it down, and then ended up leaning against the jamb of my terrace door, the cigarette smoke drifting outside through the gap I’d pushed open with my foot. And with the departing smoke went all the nerves and stress and jitters of the past two days. Gone, just like that.

“Robert, what are you doing?” Bella sighed. I cursed softly at seeing her standing there in that hideous nightgown when she should have been in bed sleeping peacefully. Evidently I hadn’t been as quiet as I’d thought I'd been.

I heaved a deep sigh, completely embarrassed at being caught sneaking a cigarette. It almost felt like my mother had just walked in and caught me jacking off.

“You’re in love with a drug addict,” I said. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. I caved.”

“How long have you been trying to quit?”

“Two days that felt like two centuries,” I muttered.

“How many were you smoking a day?”

“A pack,” I answered. “Twenty.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Twenty?! My god, how many did you cut back to?”

“Zero,” I answered. “Sam said the best thing was to just quit cold turkey, so that’s what I did.”

Bella snorted. “When did Sam get a medical degree? Good Lord, Robert. You’ve thrown your body one hell of a curve ball there. No wonder you’re a nervous wreck. What you should do is cut back to maybe four or five a day for awhile, and then drop one. Keep cutting one out gradually over a period of…say…a couple of months, until you’re down to zero. And maybe even get a nicotine patch to help.”

“I just wanted to quit smoking before you got here, because I know you don’t like it,” I said, staring at the floor.

“Robert.” She sighed with what sounded like frustration. She wrapped her arms around my waist and forced me to look at her. “I just know it’s not good for your health, or that beautiful voice of yours. But my god, I don’t expect you to turn yourself into a basket case just for me. And get your damned foot out of that door!” She was glaring at me now. I quickly pulled my foot back inside and let the door swoosh shut. “This is your apartment and you shouldn’t have to hang out of the windows and doors like a bat just to smoke.”

So we agreed that I would cut back to five a day: one at breakfast, lunch and dinner, one after sex and one before bed. Of course, I questioned the part about sex. What if I had sex more than once? Couldn’t I have one each time? But she stuck to her guns on that one, although she was grinning the entire time. Only one after sex, no matter how many times we did it. I quit arguing. I considered myself lucky to get what I’d gotten. We sealed the deal with a deep and lingering kiss.

“It’s only been a little over an hour and I already want you again,” I murmured softly against her mouth.

“Mmmmm, I’m feelin’ you,” she purred. “I only had two and I was nowhere near done.”

I laughed. “Multiple orgasms. What a concept. I think I’d like to try that for a week and see what it’s like.”

“Hmmph, well I’d like to have one of these for a week—“ She snaked her hand down between us and grabbed my crotch. “—and see what that’s like.”

I thought about it, and decided that wouldn’t be such a great idea. “I don’t think I’d want to loan you The BHT. You wouldn’t want to bring it back after you found out how good it felt,” I said, laughing.

She pulled back away from me and gave me the funniest look. “The BHT?”

“The Big Hard Tool,” I said with a wide grin.

She blinked a couple of times and just stared up at me. “The Big Hard Tool. That’s what you call it?”

I snickered. “Yeah, I think it fits. Don’t you?”

She shrugged and then grinned crookedly. “I guess it does. But you know, I’m going to have to come up with my own special name for it. The BHT that’s a guy name. It needs something with more of a feminine flair, I think.”

This was a side of Bella I’d never seen before, and it was scaring me. “No Princess Sophia shit, Bella, and I mean it. I can’t believe Matthew McConaughey put up with that.” I hesitated before asking, “So, what did you have in mind?”

She grinned. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. But I’ll come up with something, don’t you worry. But right now? I reaaaally need to go to sleep. I’m sorry, but I think I’m finally about to crash on you.”

By the time we crawled into bed and underneath the covers, the dim morning sun was beginning to lighten up the room. I curled up against her back, wrapped my arms around her, and we drifted off to sleep together.

\----------------------------------------------------

  
I have to give appropriate credit for the pictures included within the story.  The  artist is a gal by the name of Lindz at Robmaniporn. I freely admit to cropping one and adding text to the other, but neither picture belongs to me. 

 


	31. Hurdle Number One

_**Tuesday, January 6, 2009** _

**~ ROB ~**

I drifted awake to glaring sun pouring in through the bedroom windows, and the feel of sweat trickling down my back. _Why am I so damned hot?_ I groaned and tried to roll over, but couldn’t. That was when everything from the night before slammed back into my brain. Bella. She’s here, with _me,_ in London.

I craned my neck around and found her scooted up close to my back, with only a pile of tangled hair showing out from underneath the blankets. Her legs were all twisted up with mine and she was throwing off heat like a radiator. I very carefully untangled my legs and maneuvered my body away from hers. I slid over to my side of the bed and did a one-hand fumble in the floor, searching for my phone.

I had a million messages but only one of them brought a string of whispered ‘oh shits’ from my mouth. I’d missed my morning session with my personal trainer. Thankfully, he’d left a message, offering me the opportunity for a makeup torture session this afternoon. I glanced at the clock: 2:30 pm. I only had an hour to pull myself together so that my trainer could just tear me back apart again.

I did a quick drive-by of the three S’s, choked down a bowl of cereal that tasted pretty much like nothing, chugged some orange juice and then headed for the door. Right when I put my hand on the doorknob to leave, I got a mental kick-in-the-ass from that voice inside my head. _Dude, aren’t you forgetting something? What about Bella? That’s right, you have a girlfriend now, Rob._

A girlfriend. I smiled to myself at the thought. At that moment, it finally struck home that my life was vastly different this morning than it had been yesterday morning. I couldn’t just sky out of the apartment without a care in the world now. I had a girlfriend, someone who would wonder where I was when she woke up to an empty apartment, someone who actually would give a shit about what Robert Pattinson was doing with himself twenty-four hours a day. I had to admit it was a damned good feeling.

I went back down the hall and leaned against the open doorway to my bedroom. It didn’t appear that she’d even moved since I’d gotten out of bed. I thought about leaving her a note, but then whispered a soft ‘the fuck with that’ under my breath. I wanted to hear her voice; I needed it to jump start my day.

I knelt beside the bed and gently nudged her awake. Her eyes fluttered open. They were confused and disoriented at first. Waking up in a strange bed would do that to a person. I ought to know. I’d done it enough. She gave me the sweetest sleepy little smile that had me wanting to crawl back in bed with her and forget about that six-pack waiting for me at the gym.

“Hey,” she murmured. “What time is it?”

I pushed some tangled hair away from her face. “Three o’clock. But don’t worry about the time. Sleep as long as you want. I just wanted to let you know that I have to go to the gym for a couple of hours. Evidently my scrawny body needs some serious work for New Moon.”

She smiled wider and then sighed with contentment. “Okay. I’ll just hang out here.” She snuggled back down into the blankets and got comfortable, while I was dreading like everything having to go out into the cold.

“Don’t do anything, and don’t worry about anything. Just concentrate on sleeping off that jet lag. I’ll bring us some food back around seven, and we’ll just chill out for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds good. And by the way, I like your body just the way it is.”

I smiled and then leaned in to give her a quick kiss, but she dodged my mouth and offered me her cheek instead. A few minutes and a bunch of kisses later, I finally dragged myself away from her side.

I snagged a jacket, my gym bag, and at the last minute remembered I was allowed a cigarette. Sadly, my last remaining pack was completely empty. A quick dash into Fairgrounds on the way out took care of that problem. Finally, with nicotine filling up my lungs and singing in my veins, I rounded the corner of Broadwick and Carnaby feeling like Fred Astaire. I wanted to break out in song and dance right there in the middle of the street in broad daylight. I grinned to myself as I imagined the tabloid headlines the next day: “Robert Pattison seen dancing in the streets of London! Too much partying? Breakup with Kristen? Or has fame finally sent him over the edge?”

 _None of the above, assholes_ , I thought. Life was finally going my way after years of drifting. I had a career, a roof over my head (even if it was rented), plenty of money in the bank, a wonderful set of friends, a supportive family, and now a beautiful and talented girlfriend who was willing to follow my ass all over the place just to be with me.

I hoped nobody pinched me anytime soon, because if this was a dream and they woke me up, I was going to seriously kick their ass.

\-------------------------------------

**~ BELLA ~**

There was just no going back to sleep. I wanted to stay in bed and wallow in the scent of Robert’s aftershave, or cologne, or whatever that glorious smell was all over the covers, but my eyes refused to stay shut. I sighed, pulled myself out from underneath the blankets, made up the bed and then headed for the bathroom.

Robert’s shaving paraphernalia was scattered all over the small sink. His underwear lay in the floor by the tub, beside the damp crumpled-up towel he’d used to dry himself off with. The toilet lid was up, too. I couldn’t help but smile. Something must have went wrong in the evolutionary ladder somewhere when it came to men because Mom yelled at both my dad and my brother all the time about the toilet lid thing. It seemed Robert was a typical man too, instead of the perfect god so many girls thought him to be.

I tidied up and then took a long and relaxing hot shower. The heat loosened the tight and sore muscles in my legs and hips, my cherished souvenirs from last night’s lovemaking. I closed my eyes and relived it all as I worked shampoo through my hair: the feel of Robert’s body pressed against mine; his long beautiful fingers sliding all over me and then between my legs; the low growling sounds he’d made deep down in his throat when he’d came. All memories that ran chills down my spine even though I was surrounded by the hot steam of the shower.

I reluctantly came back to reality when the water started to run lukewarm. I towel-dried my hair a little and then just let it go, deciding to let it air-dry the rest of the way. I figured a little fluffing with the blow dryer later before Robert got home would do nicely. I pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans that had been washed and worn millions of times, along with an oversized sweat shirt. No bra. No makeup, since I rarely ever wore any. Besides, it wasn’t like we were going anywhere tonight or expecting company, and Robert didn’t seem to mind the natural look.

Next stop: the kitchen. A couple of fried eggs sounded just right. While I was keeping vigil over the skillet, my eyes drifted to the sink. Memories of last night rushed in: leaning back against his chest, feeling his hardness pressing into my body from behind, his hands roaming down the front of me and kneading my breasts, his fingers probing my center. The muscles clenched tight between my legs and a soft moan escaped from my mouth before I realized it. _Damn Abby. Get a grip on yourself girlfriend._  If I kept up with this daydreaming stuff, I was going to go through my meager supply of panties in just one evening.

But, oh my God, when he’d started talking dirty to me my insides had turned flips. Words that would have normally embarrassed me to death, sounded like poetry when they’d come out of his mouth. I truly believed the man had no clue how sexy he’d sounded. He’d even blushed when apologizing for his crude language, which had made him even sexier. I came to the conclusion while flipping my eggs, that profanity with a British accent just flat out did it for me. Robert could speak the filthiest words in the English language to me and I’d drop my panties for him right there on the spot.

 _Geez Abby. Is sex all you can think about? Get your mind out of the flippin’ gutter. The man is not just your personal boy toy._ The last thing Robert needed was me going all fan-girl over him, like his gorgeousness was the only thing that was important about him. He got enough of that from the hordes of screaming girls. But what was a gal to do? He was just so damned fucking hot. I sighed to myself as I put two slices of bread into the toaster. Who was I kidding? I was so eat up with fan-girl disease that it wasn’t even funny. I just hid it well. I didn’t think he had a clue in heaven of the fantasies that ran through my head, fantasies starring Robert Pattinson completely nude, sporting a beautiful erection, and talking dirty with that smooth voice and British accent of his. And in those same fantasies, we did it every single way he’d suggested.

Growling aloud in frustration at myself, I carried my plate of food into the living room to the table by the window, the same table where everything had started last night. To keep from thinking about sex again, I busied myself with studying the room while I ate. I smiled when I saw his battered guitar case leaned up against the wall near the sofa. How many pictures had I seen of him on the Internet carrying that ratty old thing? Every single time I’d wondered why he hadn’t bought a new one. It wasn’t like he’d not had enough money. But, now that I knew more about the man Robert Pattinson, instead of the star, I understood why. That guitar and its scruffy case were like old friends to him. They’d obviously been through a lot together. The same with his beat-up BMW. He could have splurged on something totally decadent, like a Porsche or a Jaguar, but instead he’d driven that dilapidated car, not caring what anyone thought about it. Yes, the one thing he wasn’t was a pampered, spoiled movie star who surrounded himself with beautiful people and lots of expensive things. Robert cherished simplicity in his life. That was what I loved most about him.

The doorbell rang once and then again while I was cleaning the kitchen and stuffing my dishes into the dishwasher. Robert hadn’t mentioned anything about visitors, so of course I was curious about whoever it was on the other side pushing that little button over and over again so impatiently. It could be anyone from a delivery man to a family member to an old girlfriend for all I knew. I thought about ignoring it, but what if it was important? Besides, whoever it was apparently wasn’t going to give up.

Without thinking, I put my hand on the doorknob, intending to open it without first checking to see who was on the other side. Thankfully, I remembered in the nick of time where I was. This wasn’t a case of Abby Anderson from Vancouver opening her front door without a care in the world. This was Robert Pattinson’s apartment. A reporter could be standing on the other side, or a fan girl who had somehow tracked down the location of his private home.

So, I stood up on tiptoes and peeked through the peephole. A mass of strawberry blonde hair filled up my tiny window to the outside world. Then the hair swirled around and a face took its place, a very _lovely_ face with an annoyed frown. The doorbell rang insistently again. I took a deep breath, gathering my inner fortitude to face whatever situation awaited me, and slowly opened the door.

Roughly five foot seven inches of bombshell stood on the other side. The blonde’s icy green eyes immediately dropped several inches and fixed on me. “Who are _you?”_

Her arrogant attitude triggered every bell and whistle on my Bitch Detector. This was a chick I did not want to deal with. I knew that already without hearing anything else she had to say.

“Who are _you?”_ I shot back just as arrogantly. I wasn’t about to reveal that I was a friend of Robert’s or even that this was Robert’s house, especially to someone who was a total stranger to me. _Shit, I hope she isn’t one of his relatives._ That terrible thought hit me just a few seconds too late. If she was, I’d already ruined everything with my own ‘back atcha, bitch’ attitude.

“I’m here to see Rob,” she announced haughtily, without providing her identity.

“He’s out.”

“I’ll wait.” She brushed by me, almost knocking me out of the way in her effort to get inside. Oh hell, I so did not want to make girly small talk with this rude person.

Before I could object, she disappeared into the living room, peeling off her coat and long, black gloves before settling herself onto his sofa. Her black stockinged legs started at her neck and ended in a kick-ass pair of black spike-heeled boots. Her animal print dress rode high on her thighs, much too short for the January weather, if you asked me. But then, if I had legs that long and thin, I’d probably show them off too. Cleavage more appropriate for a plus-size woman pushed against her low-cut neckline. I suddenly knew how a slimy slug felt as it oozed along on the cold ground while the beautiful butterfly, newly emerged all fresh and colorful from its cocoon, fluttered high above in the warm sunshine. Shit. This girl was way out of my league.

“He won’t be back for awhile. I’ll gladly tell him—“ Before I could finish my sentence she interrupted me with a wave of her hand.

“Just go back to your cleaning. Don’t mind me.” She crossed her long, shapely legs and smiled at me from across the room.

 _Just go back to my cleaning?! Who the hell does she think I am?!_ Slug or no slug, this bitch was not going to get away with putting me down. I walked very serenely to the chair nearest the sofa and sat down very calmly.

“Actually, I just got through eating breakfast. Before that I took a shower. And before that I made up his bed, the one he and I slept in together last night.” I smiled innocently back at her, and wanted to laugh my ass off at the shock written all over her perfect tanning-bed face. I watched her slowly gather her composure and slip her ‘I’m better than you’ mask back into place.

“I’m Julia, by the way. An old friend of Rob’s. And you are…?”

“Abby. A _new_ friend of Rob’s.”

She grimaced. “From America obviously.” 

 _Well, duh._ “Obviously.” I smiled at her, one of those smiles with a whole lot of teeth and a boat load full of smart-ass.

She swept her critical gaze all over the room and smirked. “The place sure looks a lot different than when I was here on New Year’s Eve. He had a party, you know.” She slid her green eyes in my direction and quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow at me.

“I know. He mentioned it.”

“Did he also mention that he fucked me on the kitchen counter?” She grinned crookedly, eyebrows lifted, waiting for a response from me.

I hated myself for allowing the shock to show on my face. I wanted to chop my own head off for letting my chin drop down to my chest. I knew I would be playing into this skank’s hands if I opened my mouth to respond, so I said nothing.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” She chuckled. “Seems you and I have something in common, don’t we, honey? We’ve both been fucked by the great and glorious Robert Pattinson, London’s very own bright and upcoming young star.”

 _Okay now she’s pissing me off._ She was making fun of Robert. There was no mistaking the mockery in her voice and I was having none of that shit!  I stood up and glared down at her. When I finally figured out what I wanted to say to her, I was surprised at the controlled fury I heard in my own voice. I rarely ever lost my temper, but at that moment I felt a real doozy of a tantrum coming on.

“You and I have nothing in common,” I retorted hotly. “Robert Pattinson may have fucked _you_ , but he made _love_ to me. Those are two totally different things, but then I can understand how someone like you might not know the difference.”

She shot up off the sofa, trying to intimidate me with her height and her bad-ass attitude. “You’re just a passing fancy to him… _Abby_.” She spat out my name like she was spitting soap out of her mouth. “When he gets tired of you, when the shine wears off of his new little American toy, he’s going to come crawling back to the girls he’s known all his life, just like he always does, especially the one he’s got stashed here in London. You know the one, right? The girl that he’s kept on the side for over two years? Everyone around here knows about her, but he’s managed to keep it from the media pretty well. You might want to ask him about her.”

Oh yeah, this girl was a first-class bitch of the highest order. A pain started in my chest and rose up into my throat. It was the pain of trying to hold back tears, of trying to stop from screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t going to let her see me fall apart, but her words hurt, and they sowed seeds of doubt about Robert. For that one thing alone, I hated her guts and wanted to claw her evil green eyes out.

“Julia, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

Robert’s cold angry voice broke the tense silence between me and Julia. When had he come in? I hadn’t even heard the door open. How much had he heard?

“Just visiting.” She’d recovered quickly and answered him with her sweet and innocent smile firmly in place.

“Leave.”

That one word, that one icy command from Robert’s mouth told me everything I needed to know. He didn’t like her any more than I did.

“No worries, Patty. It’s all good,” she reassured him as she gathered her coat and gloves, and swept by me to leave. “I’ll see you soon.” She patted his arm as she breezed by him. It didn’t escape my attention that he cringed away from her touch. _Good. This is good, Abby_ I silently reassured myself. _He wouldn’t react that way with someone he cared about._

When the door closed behind her, I exhaled a deep breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. “You’re back early.” That sounded like a stale line of dialogue from a B-rate movie, just something to say to fill the awkward silence between us. “Where’s my food?” I added, laughing nervously.

He ignored my nervousness and approached me hesitantly. He stuck out his arms, a silent invitation for me to fall into them and forget the shit that had just happened. I took him up on his offer and let him wrap his arms around me.

“I’m sorry about her,” he murmured against my hair. “I had no idea she’d have the nerve to show up here or I would have warned you. I’m so sorry.”

“Who is she?” I asked, my voice muffled against his chest.

“Why don’t we eat first, and then I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he suggested. “I came back early to see if maybe you wanted to go out.”

I pulled away from his chest and looked up at him. “I think I’d rather stay here, if you don’t mind. I can cook something.”

He gathered me back into his arms. “Oh, no. There’s no way you’re cooking tonight. I’ll have something delivered or go out and bring something back.” I tried to argue with him but got nowhere.

We powered up his laptop and surfed the web for restaurants in Soho. We finally agreed on Zebrano’s on Ganton Street, which was only one street back from us. With a quick phone call, our order was placed. Since they didn’t deliver, Robert volunteered to go pick it up.

“I’m just going to take a quick shower and then go get the food. We’ll talk over dinner.” He waited expectantly for some sort of affirmative from me.

So many questions were swirling through my head, and all because of that long-legged skank and her big mouth. All I could do was nod. We were definitely going to talk.

\------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

“So, are you making food art or something?”

I looked up from my plate of grilled chicken, spinach and sweet potatoes, which I’d been unenthusiastically rearranging into fun animal shapes with my fork.

“Pretty much.” I chuckled. “I’m on this low fat, high protein thing for New Moon. Oh, and I can’t refer to it as a ‘diet’. Never say the word ‘diet’, whatever you do. It’s a _nutritional plan._ Remember that.”

“It looks pretty tasty to me. And you did get red wine with it, so it isn’t all bad.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not as good as your Zebrano Burger and Spicy Wedges.” My asshole voice snuck that one in.  I was being whiny. I wanted what was on her plate, not mine. Melted cheese was oozing out of the burger. Slabs of bacon were jutting out both sides of the bun and screaming my name.  “Won’t you get fat eating all of that gooey cheese and bacon?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to kick myself in my own ass. Even someone as relationship stupid as I was knew you never mentioned your girl’s weight in polite conversation.

She stopped chewing and blinked at me across the table. Finally she swallowed. “Uhm,  _I’m_ not the one appearing half naked in a movie in a few months, but you have a valid point.” She got up abruptly and carried her plate into the kitchen. She returned with only a fork.

“Where’s your food?”

“In the garbage.” She sat down beside of me and smiled. “Starting tonight, I have a new di---uhm,  _nutritional plan_. We’ll both get healthy together.”

I protested, but she ignored me. Somehow I had gained a nutritional partner, as well as a beautiful lover and supportive friend. The only reaction I could manage was a puzzled stare and a smile. What had I done to deserve her?

“What?” she asked, her forkful of disgusting spinach poised in mid-air.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I just…I just love you, that’s all.” I didn’t know what else to say.

We shared my meal and the wine and kept our conversation light. We both knew we were going to have to eventually talk about Julia, but we put it off as long as we could. Talking about that bitch was going to ruin my evening, no way around that, but I was going to enjoy as much of it as possible before I was forced to tell all.

When we were finished and everything cleared away, we settled down on the sofa—Bella at one end, me at the other, and our feet bunched up together in the middle. It reminded me of that first night I’d spent with her in her bedroom.

“So, tell me all about this ‘ho bag….oops…I mean Julia,” she said, smiling mischievously.

“You were right the first time.” I sighed and began telling her the whole pathetic tale of my teenage fascination with Julia.

“We both lived in Barnes and met in nursery school, if you can believe it. Then Mum and Dad put me in Tower House—that’s an all-boy’s school—until I was twelve. The only time I saw her was when we sometimes played together with our mutual friends on the weekend. Even at that age, I thought she was the most beautiful creature alive.” I glanced at Bella to see her reaction. She rolled her eyes and snickered.

“When I was thirteen, I transferred to Harrodian, well actually I got expelled from Tower House.” I chuckled. “Anyway, Julia was at Harrodian, too. God, I was such a goofy dumbass then. Hell, I still am.” I ignored her protests to the contrary, and pushed ahead with my teenage tale of woe. “I tried every way in the world to get her to notice me. By then, she was already hanging out with an exclusive group of guys who were way cooler than I was, and she was sleeping with every one of them. Even though she completely ignored me, I never gave up hope. I was worse than a stupid love-sick puppy.”

I sighed and ran my fingers through what little hair I had left. “On my seventeenth birthday, I spent the night crawling pubs with a bunch of my friends. To make a long story short, I ran into Julia in one of them, and we eventually ended up in the backseat of her car.” I hesitated, unsure of whether I should elaborate. “Yeah, and uh…she was my first.” And that was all I was going to say on that subject. It hadn’t been the most romantic evening of my life. Julia and I both had been half drunk, but at least we’d had enough sense to protect ourselves.

“Oh.” Bella grimaced. “Your first.” After a short hesitation, during which God only knew what was going through her head, she continued. “So, you guys started dating then?”

I snorted bitterly. “Hell, no. After that night she shunned my ass, wouldn’t even speak to me. I really shouldn’t have cared, but like an idiot, I did. It hurt and pissed me off all at the same time. I finally got over it and I haven’t had anything to do with her since.”

“Well, she said you two had sex on New Year’s Eve, at your party,” Bella said slowly.

“She’s lying! You can ask anyone who was there. Sam and Tom can both attest to it. First of all, she invited herself without my knowledge, and then she came on to me just like it was the day after my 17th birthday, like nothing had ever happened. I went off on her, accused her of trying to latch on to the gravy train now that I was “somebody”. She accused me of thinking I was too good for Barnes girls. It was all nothing but a load of crap. We threw her drunk ass out, and I got plastered. End of story. We didn’t have sex, Bella. I swear to you, we didn’t. The only person who’s been on my mind since I left the U.S. is _you.”_

She stared at me from her end of the sofa. I could see her trying to decide if I was telling the truth. “I believe you,” she said finally. “The girl is a first class skank, and she looks like the type who’d want to grab onto your coat tails and ride.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Julia wasn’t even in Bella’s league. For her to even feel a glimmer of jealousy toward her would have been ridiculous. I’d take one Bella over a thousand Julias any day.

“But, she _did_ mention something else,” Bella continued slowly. The change in her tone alarmed me. “She said you had a girlfriend stashed here in London that you’ve been involved with for over two years, a girl that everyone _here_ knows about but that the press doesn’t.”

_Oh shit._

After an extended period of panicked silence on my part, Bella finally spoke. “Robert, just tell me. Remember what I said. No more lying about anything or keeping things from me.”

I sighed in the face of her ultimatum. “Her name is Elaina Arora and she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a really close friend.”

“A friend with benefits?” Bella’s voice had taken on a decidedly angry edge.

“Let me explain about Elaina before you jump to conclusions. I met her a few years ago. She was nice to me at a time when I needed someone nice in my life. We’re really good friends, and yes, before you ask, we have slept together on occasion, but we’re not like an official couple. We both date other people.”

“You’re talking in the present tense,” Bella observed. “This is still going on?  When is the last time you saw her or talked to her?”

“We spent some time together just before I left for the Twilight audition. I’ve spoken to her on the phone a few times since. She texts me sometimes when something’s happened she wants to tell me about, but that’s it. I haven’t seen her since before all this Twilight stuff started.”

“Why would Julia and apparently everyone else think she’s your girlfriend if she’s just a ‘really close friend’?”

I could tell by the tone of her voice that Bella wasn’t buying any of this. “Probably because we were together a lot. People made assumptions, like people always do, without having all the facts. We were close. We had some common interests at the time. We hung out a lot together, but we weren’t exclusive with each other.”

“Does she know about me?”

“Very few people know about you. Only certain ones I can trust, plus my family. Elaina has no idea I’ve met someone.”

“You’re going to tell her.” And that wasn’t a request. Bella’s mouth was set in a firm, stubborn line that let me know there was no room for argument on this point.

“Of course, but I’m not giving her your name. Not that she would announce it to the world—I trust her—but the fewer people who know about us, the easier it’ll be to keep you out of the public eye.”

Bella nodded in silent agreement and then asked THE question. “Do you love her?”

A heavy silence hung between us as she waited for my answer. When I did finally answer, I met her stare dead on across the sofa and told her the absolute truth from my heart. “No. I love you. Elaina is just a very good friend. And now that you’re in my life, that’s all she’s _going_ to be from here on out.”

The room went quiet. I held my breath, waiting for some sign that Bella believed me. Just like Victoria had said, the shattered trust between us was extremely fragile. Restoring it was going to take time, but I was determined to do it, no matter what it took.

“You have a complicated love life, Robert.” She sighed. Despite her remark, I sensed that everything was going to be all right between us. She believed me.

“Not really.” I chuckled. “Sam’s the one with the complicated love life. He juggles two and three girls at a time without any of them finding out about the others.” I shook my head and laughed. “I don’t know how the man does it.”

She moved from her end of the sofa and wriggled down beside me on my end, snuggling underneath my arm and wrapping her legs around mine. We stretched our legs out and cuddled.  “Speaking of Sam, I’d like to meet him. Any chance of that happening?” 

“You’ll meet all of my friends eventually. They drop by every time they’re in town. Just remember though that I’m the normal one.” She laughed and my stomach settled back where it belonged, instead of in my throat. Bella and I had made it over our first hurdle in re-establishing the trust. How many more lay ahead of us?

We spent a very long time on that sofa kissing and cuddling, talking and giggling. We ended up having a tickling battle which landed me ass-flat on the floor with Bella on top, straddling my hips and tickling the shit out of me. It hadn’t taken her but a few minutes to discover all my vulnerable tickle spots, and after that she’d been unstoppable. Good thing my apartment was isolated and on the roof, because the squeals got pretty loud for awhile, and the laughter even louder. It would have been pretty embarrassing too, if anyone had overheard me begging her for mercy.

“Bella! I swear to God, if you don’t quit, me and the BHT are sleeping on the sofa tonight!” I yelled in between bouts of laughing, as she dug her fingers mercilessly into my sides.

Well, that did it. The tickling stopped. I smiled inwardly at my newfound power. The BHT was not only a big hard tool, but also a pretty damned good bargaining chip.

“That’s playing dirty,” she said, scowling.

I snickered. “Whatever it takes.” 

And since we were already horizontal, and she was straddling me in just the right place, the BHT and I let her know exactly what we wanted.

\------------------------------------------

We were both sprawled all over the floor gasping for breath like we’d just ran a marathon, when this totally random phrase came out of her mouth.

“The Love Mallet.”

“What?” I was still saturated with afterglow. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet.

“The Love Mallet. It’s kind of a cute name for your…you know.” She giggled.

I thought about it for a few moments. A mallet reminded me of pounding, and considering what we’d just spent the last little while doing, the comparison seemed to fit perfectly. “That’s actually not half bad. I just might consider a name change.”

She stretched and purred in happy-cat contentment. “I don’t know. It sounds kind of cavemanish now that I think about it.” Then she shook her head emphatically. “Nope. I don’t like it. I’ll just have to think of something else.”

Eventually we scraped ourselves up off the hardwood floor and made it into the shower together. She washed me, and I washed her in turn. After just a few seconds of rubbing soap all over her body, I was wishing I was really Edward Cullen. I had a sneaking suspicion that that damned vampire would have been able to get it up again for his Bella, whereas the pitifully human Robert Pattinson who played him was physically done for the night, even though he didn’t want to be.

“I’m about to crash,” Bella said mid yawn. We were each sitting on our respective sides of the bed now, me totally nude and Bella wearing that god-awful erection-killing nightgown. We were going to have a serious talk about her bedtime wardrobe very soon.

“Not quite yet, you’re not. You’ve got something very important to do before you crash for the night.” I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and tossed it onto the bed beside her. “Call your parents.”

“The time difference—” she started.

I interrupted her. “It’s six in the evening in Vancouver, the perfect time to call.”

“That’s going to cost a ton of money,” she protested.

“I’ve got unlimited everything.” I chuckled. “And four million in the bank.”

“Of course you do,” she muttered grumpily underneath her breath.  She grabbed the phone and started to punch buttons. “You’re going to regret this. They’re both going to want to talk to you and it may not be very pretty.”

“I realize that but you still need to call. They need to know you’re okay.”

She put the phone to her ear and frowned at me. Then she sighed in defeat when the call apparently went through on the first attempt.

“Hello, Mom? It’s Abby.”

\--------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

About the secret girlfriend thing...

This has been a persistent rumor since Robert Pattinson burst onto the scene in 2008. I’ve been aware of it for a very long time. But just a few days ago, the rumor resurfaced. An Australian publication, which should probably be considered a tabloid-type magazine, has addressed these rumors once again in a recent article. They named Elaina Arora as the girlfriend and also hinted that they had a child together (which I personally don’t believe for one minute.)

 _Gossip Cop,_ a reputable organization that strives to get to the truth behind all tabloid rumors, is withholding comment for now. They have no proof that it’s true, and also no proof that it’s false. When they have proof, they will publish it and formally discount or support the rumor. I personally believe that there may have been some truth to it at one point in time, but that it’s most likely not true now, meaning they’re no longer involved with each other and there certainly ISN’T a baby in the picture.

Whether it is or isn’t true, I am putting it in my story. That’s one of those things about this man that the public will probably never know for sure, so it’s perfect for my little tale of fiction. LOL 


	32. Relatives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t think Bella would want to have her conversation with her mom on speaker phone, so I wrote it as a one-sided phone conversation being listened to by a third party (Rob). Sentences such as “short silence”, “another short silence” got annoying really quickly, so I decided to just insert *silences* into the dialogue. These represent the times when Bella’s mother is talking on her end, and Rob has no idea what is being said. All he hears are Bella's response.

\--------------------------------------

_**Tuesday, January 6, 2009** _

_**~** _ **ROB ~**

 

“Hello, Mom? It’s Abby.”

*silence*

“I’m in London. In Soho, just like I told you.”

*silence* and then Bella gritted her teeth. “Mom! I already told you that! I’m with Robert!”

*silence*

She growled in frustration. _“Robert Pattinson!!”_

I frantically waved my hand at her and mouthed silently for her to ease up on the attitude. She was supposed to be paving the way for me to talk to her parents, but she wasn’t getting off to a very good start.

“Mom.“ She took a deep breath and thankfully dropped the shrillness in her voice. When she continued she was a little calmer. My panicked wave must have worked. “I’m not lying to you. I never lie about stuff, you know that.” She grinned and rolled her eyes at her own exaggeration. “I’m in Soho, on Broadwick Street, number 72. You can get on Google Maps and actually see Robert’s apartment. It’s on the roof of The Magazine House. I’m telling you the truth.”

*silence*

“Yes, he’s here. He’s right here on the….” She caught herself just in time. “He’s sitting right here in front of me.”

*silence*

“Sure.” Bella sighed and tossed the phone in my lap. I wasn’t expecting it, so of course it hit me in exactly the wrong place, which was my own damn fault because I should have put some clothes on. A guy probably shouldn’t be completely naked when he talks to his girlfriend’s parents for the first time.

“Shit,” I hissed in a whisper as I grimaced and cupped my injured parts in the comforting safety of my palm. Bella clapped her hand over her mouth to hold in her giggles.

“Sorry,” she mouthed silently and then clapped her hand over her mouth again. Her brown eyes were sparkling with laughter. I had no choice but to smile through the pain. Bella’s mother was waiting.  I put the phone to my ear and took a deep breath for courage.

“Mrs. Anderson? This is Robert.”

All I heard was silence on the other end.

“Hello?..........Hello??”

Nothing. I held the phone out and looked at it, like it was all of a sudden going to start talking to me and explaining why I was having a conversation with thin air. I looked at Bella and shrugged.

“She probably fainted,” Bella whispered extremely softly.

 _Good god, surely not._ I frowned and put the phone back to my ear again. “Hello? Mrs. Anderson, are you there?”

“Is this really Robert Pattinson or just one of Abby’s friends doing a bad British accent?”

 _Bad British accent??_ I chuckled. “No, this is really Robert Pattinson.”

“This is my daughter we’re talking about here. If you’re not one of Abby’s friends, then for all I know you’re some deranged pervert who’s abducted her or something.”

 _Deranged pervert?_ Oh yeah, Bella hadn’t been kidding when she’d said her family was crazy. How was I going to convince this woman, who just happened to be the mother of the girl I was head-over-heels in love with, that I was who I said I was??

“Uhm, If I'd kidnapped her, I think I’d be too busy raping and killing her right now. I wouldn’t care much about ringing up her mother on my cell, which, by the way, could be traced by the police. This really is Robert Pattinson, Mrs. Anderson,” I said, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice. This woman was too much. Bella’s mouth dropped open as she realized what she’d accused me of.

“Oh my God! She thinks you’ve kidnapped me?!” Bella whispered in shock. “Hand me that damned phone!”

She reached for it, but I grinned and stuck my hand up in the air and out of her reach. No way. I was just starting to have fun. I brought the phone back to my ear.

“What’s your middle name?”

I frowned at her seemingly random question. “Thomas?” I answered, as if unsure of it myself.

I heard a growl of disgust on the other end. “That one’s too easy. Everyone knows that. What prep school did you go to?”

Oh, I understood now. We were playing Twenty Questions. “Harrodian, but that was after I got expelled from Tower House for delinquency.”

Bella was fuming on her side of the bed, but strangely, I was enjoying myself.

“Nope. Not good enough. Anyone can Google Robert Pattinson’s whole life history and find that out. I need something better than that.”

There was silence on her end for quite a long time. I smiled crookedly at Bella and just waited for her mother to come up with the ultimate Robert Pattinson trivia question that no one in the world would know the answer to but me.

“I know! What food did you and your sisters play a game with once when you were bored?”

I laughed out loud. This one was easy, and something I’d only mentioned one time in a very obscure interview at the beginning of this Twilight madness. Only a truly obsessed fan would remember it.  “Donuts.”

“What?” Bella’s confused look was hysterical. I could only imagine what she was thinking, hearing only one side of this conversation.

“Oh my goodness, this is really Robert Pattinson! Oh, damn, I said you had a fake British accent! I’m sooooo sorry!”

She continued to apologize. I stopped laughing long enough to interrupt her. “It’s all right, Mrs. Anderson.”

“How long has this been going on between you two? And how did you meet?”

“Since the Twilight premiere and at a bar after the premiere.”

“How did you….? Have you been up here in Vancouver to see her? Or did she sneak off and go down to L.A.?”

Oh no. I was on shaky ground now. I glanced at Bella. She was frowning again, probably responding to the panicked look on my face. _Time to lie your ass off, Rob._

“I only visited her once in Vancouver. Most of the time we talked by phone. Quite a lot, actually.” Bella was visibly cringing, probably wondering if her mother was going to accept my little white misconstruing of the truth.

“You know, you have such a nice as—uh, I mean… _behind,_ but right now it would look so much nicer with my foot stuck up it. I don’t believe that nonsense for a minute. I used to be young once, you know.”

 _Ohhhh helll_. Time to grovel and turn on the charm, and pretend I didn’t hear the part about my nice ass. “Mrs. Anderson, I promise you that Be-…that Abby is safe here with me. I’ll take good care of her until she gets back to the States. You don’t need to worry about her at all. I swear. Anything she needs, I’ll get it for her, and anytime she wants to come home, I’ll fly her back.”

I heard a sigh on the other end and then: “I’m not really worried about the safe part. I trust you on that.  Just please, keep her away from the cameras.”

“Oh, most definitely. You can count on that,” I assured her strongly.

“Did you know she emptied out her college savings to fly over there? I got a call from the bank after she left. It wasn’t all that much, but she’d been saving since she was little. I just want to strangle her right now!”

“No, I had no idea about that.” I narrowed my eyes menacingly at Bella. “I’ll take care of it as soon as I return to the States.”

“Good. That’s good. Because Abby is going to go to college, Rob. This thing, whatever it is, between you two will NOT interfere with her future, and I mean that.”

“I absolutely agree with you one hundred percent. In fact, I’m going to make sure that happens.”

“Maybe I was a little premature with the foot up your behind thing.” I heard quiet laughter on her end. “When you get back to the States, I expect you here for dinner. Pencil us in your busy schedule.”

“I will, but Mrs. Anderson—”

“Stop with the Mrs. Anderson stuff. Just call me Leslie. ”

“All right… _Leslie_.” Bella’s eyebrows shot up her forehead and she nearly choked on her own spit. Yeah, it felt a little weird to me too. “The only thing is, can you keep this quiet?  We don’t want to go public. Not anywhere in the foreseeable future do we see that happening.”

“I think I’m going to like you…a lot. Of course we’ll keep it quiet. The last thing I want is my baby having to put up with those nasty photographers. Don’t you worry about it. Our lips are sealed. Now, let me talk to Abby again, please. Oh, and nice meeting you, Rob. I look forward to actually seeing you in person.”

 _Oh hell_. I thought I may have heard the soft growl of a cougar in that last statement. Remembering what Bella had told me about her mother and her obsession with me, I was probably not far off the mark. I gladly handed the phone back to Bella.

“See, Mom? I told you I was here with Robert and I’m okay.”

*silence*

Bella rolled her eyes and frowned. “It’s only four year’s difference, Mom. No big deal. Plus, I’m eighteen now, remember?”

*silence*

“OMG, MOM! I don’t want to hear this! Yes, I am, and this conversation is so over with!! Bye Mom, I love you!” Bella disconnected and dropped the phone on the bed and her head into her hands. She groaned, raking her fingers through her hair.

“What??” I asked, wondering what that last bit had been about.

“She asked me if I was being careful, and was I taking my pills on time, and oh my God, talking about sex with my mother completely icks me out!” I laughed when she shivered from head to toe. “Didn’t I tell you?” she asked finally, grinning. “I tried to warn you. My family is whacked.”

“Yeah, I feel much better about mine now. They actually seem somewhat normal.”

Bella laughed and then yawned long and hard. “Gosh, I’m so sleepy. This jet lag stuff is horrible.” She pulled the covers down and scooted underneath them. I was right behind her. “Oh, by the way. How’s Twinkie?”

“Twinkie??” It took me a few seconds, but I finally got it. “Ohhhh no, absolutely not.” I laughed and shook my head from side to side. “Not happening, Bella. Twinkie sounds short, and teeny, and cute, none of which describes mine. Well, maybe the cute part, but the rest? Nuh uh.”

“But I like Twinkie.” She was hiding the bottom part of her face beneath the blanket. All I could see was the top of her nose and her eyes crinkled up with laughter.

“Bella. Don’t say that again,” I warned her.

 _“Twinkie!”_ She giggled and then plunged her head completely beneath the covers. I dove in underneath the blankets and tickled the shit out of her until she begged me to stop, and until she promised never to call my dick “Twinkie” ever again. And during all of that, I managed to get that god-awful nightgown off of her, too.

\----------------------------------------

_**Wednesday, January 7, 2009** _

Wednesday morning in Soho dawned dim and cold. The weak sun was struggling to heat up the world, while I was struggling to pull myself away from the warmth of my bed, and Bella. My phone alarm had just gone off five minutes ago. I was due at the gym in an hour and fifteen minutes. I slid carefully out of bed and hit the bathroom for a quick shower to wake me up. By the time I made it to the kitchen, Bella was already there fixing breakfast.

“What are you doing up?” I leaned against the counter and breathed in the smells of domesticity. She was scrambling a pan full of eggs big enough to feed an army.

“You need something to jump start your metabolism. Some eggs and juice will do the trick.” She spooned a pile onto a plate for me. “I assume you’re going to the gym?”

“Yeah.” I sighed and carried my plate and glass of OJ into the living room. Bella was right behind me. We ate quietly together, occasionally smiling at each other when our eyes met. No words were necessary for us to know how we felt. I wanted to go back to bed and so did she, but duty called. This gym shit was part of my job. There was no skipping it, like I’d skipped my classes so many times at school.

“I’d ask you to come with me, but believe me, it’s not loads of fun. I’d hardly even get to talk to you. My trainer is a slave driver. So, I’ll be gone for about three hours, and then we’ll do something later. All right?”

“That’s fine, Robert.”

“I’ll text you.”

She bit her lip. “Uhm, my cell is dead. I sort of forgot the charger. Plus, I doubt I have service here anyway.”

I digested that disturbing bit of information in silence. How the hell was I going to get in touch with her if I needed to??  “So, what are you going to do this morning while I’m gone?”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I don’t get bored that easily. You have books, right? I’ll just plop on the bed and catch up on my reading.”

“Where’s your laptop? The one with your novel on it? You could work on that.”

Her eyes slid away from mine. “I sort of forgot that too. I was kind of in a rush when I left.”

“You can use mine. I’ll write down the passwords.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You could watch the telly. It’s not as good as American TV, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Robert,” she growled. “I’ll be fine! I’m just going to read some.”

“Oh, okay then.”

I didn’t like leaving her alone with nothing to occupy her and no way to contact her, but at the moment, I didn’t have much of a choice. I pushed away from the table and helped her clean up the dishes in the kitchen. As we worked side-by-side at the sink, I added a new phone and laptop to my growing mental list of things I needed to buy for Bella, right below the “dick-hardening nightgowns and panties” entry.

“Damn,” I cursed softly. “I have to go.” She gave me a tender lingering kiss that could have turned into so much more if we’d had the time.

Once I was out the front door and on the street, I whipped out my cell and made a call.  “Hey, Lizzie. Get your arse out of bed and rise and shine!”

_“For your information, I’ve been up since 6:30. What’s up?”_

“Are you busy this morning by chance?”

_“Actually, no. I have the day off for a change. I sort of planned on being lazy. Why?”_

I filled her in and asked her for a favor, well several favors, in fact. She quickly reminded me that I was the one who owed her an arse-load full of favors for her part in helping me win back Abby, but in the interest of true love and happily-ever-afters she readily agreed to help me out.

A dumbass guy who didn’t have a clue couldn’t have asked for a better sister.

\----------------------------------------------

**~ BELLA ~**

After Robert left, I hit the bathroom with a vengeance. I showered, shaved my legs, washed my hair and then dried and fluffed it with the blow dryer. I dug my nicest jeans out of my suitcase, along with my white cami and my favorite green Hollister low-necked tee. Tossed them around in the dryer for a bit, to get out all the wrinkles and then dressed. A dash of mascara on my lashes, two passes of lip gloss on my lips, some swipes of Bare Minerals blush on my cheeks and I was ready to face whatever might come my way today. No way was I going to be caught with my pants down like yesterday.

I searched Robert’s shelves in his bedroom for something to read. I purposely picked a book I’d never heard of. It didn’t really matter what it was about. All that mattered was that it meant enough to Robert for him to buy it. Maybe by reading it I’d learn something new about this beautiful man who now haunted my dreams.  I’d only managed to read two chapters before the doorbell rang. _Oh no. Not again._ I hoped it wasn’t that long-legged skank back for Round Two.

I trotted down the hall and peeked through the peep hole. I knew that blonde hair and the face that went with it right away. They belonged to Robert’s sister, Lizzie. It looked like I was about to meet the first member of his family. I took a deep breath for courage and opened the door.

“Hi! Lizzie, right?” I waited nervously for a reaction as she ran her eyes over me from top to bottom. She nodded and smiled as she breezed past me into the hallway.

“Well, look at you! Robbie’s Abby. We finally meet.” Lizzie wrapped her arms around me tightly. She pulled back away from me, her hands still gripping my shoulders. “Good God, you’re tiny! And beautiful to boot.”

I didn’t know what to say to that except thank you. I invited her in and we settled onto the sofa in the living room.

“I’m the official Pattinson Family Spy. I’m supposed to find out all the juicy details about you and then return to home base for debriefing.” She laughed at my reaction. “I’m just joking. Rob called me this morning and asked me to keep you company for awhile.”

“He didn’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s no problem at all. It’ll give us time to get to know each other, and I can dish out all the dirt on my little brother,” she announced, grinning.

We spent the next minutes talking about my life in Vancouver, my trip over the “Big Pond” as she referred to the Atlantic Ocean. She clucked in disapproval when I told her I hadn’t seen any sights except what had sped by my taxicab window on the way here from the airport.

“But, we’re working on that,” she said, with a mysterious smile. When I asked her what she meant, she changed the subject completely.

“You know, you remind me of someone. I can’t quite put my finger on it, though.”

“That would be Kristen Stewart. Everyone says I look like her.”

Lizzie narrowed her blue eyes and studied me closely. “I think it’s the eyes and the shape of your face. My goodness, there is definitely a resemblance.”

Then I told her the story of how Robert and I met, how he mistook me for Kristen and how I continued to let him think that, and how I introduced myself to him as Bella. She laughed at my description of Rob’s face at the time, and at the fact he’d thought me a lunatic fan bent on killing him. When I confessed to her that my name was really Isabella Abigail, and that Robert was the only one who called me “Bella”, her eyes softened.

“Awww, now that’s just too sweet,” she cooed. “Robbie’s found his Bella, just like Edward.”

She confessed to being a fan of Twilight, so we spent quite a lot of time discussing our common interest. When he’d gotten the part of Edward, the whole family—well, only the females, she admitted—had immediately read the book and had fallen in love with it.

“Don’t you ever tell Rob I said this because he’ll get his underpants all in a wad, but he is so much like the character he’s playing, it’s not even funny,” she said, nodding her head knowingly. "He's very protective of you already, and just so you know, he can get a little possessive, but in a _good_ way, not a creepy way," she added hastily. “When that boy loves, he loves with everything he’s got in him. But I’m also going to warn you, Abby. He can be quite drab at times. He gets really intense when he’s working. He shuts out everything and everyone around him. It’s nothing personal. You just have to learn to give him his space when he gets like that.”

“I’ve read that about him, but so far he’s been nothing like that.”

“He will, though. As it gets closer to filming, and while he’s filming, he’ll be quite a different person. Us creative types are a different breed,” she said, smiling crookedly. “You know he suffers from mild anxiety, right?” Her voice had suddenly taken on a decidedly more serious tone.

I nodded and told her of his confession to me in the bar after Twilight premier, that he’d had a pretty bad panic attack earlier that night.

“He’s always been extremely shy and uncomfortable in large crowds.” She chuckled softly and shook her head in amazement. “It’s funny, isn’t it? That he’d end up in this situation, doing exactly what has always terrified him. But, on the other hand, when he’s performing—when he’s actually on stage or in front of a camera—all that anxiety just goes away. It’s only when he falls out of character and steps back into real life again that it comes back.”

I shook my head in disbelief. Sometimes it was so hard to wrap my head around the man, Robert Pattinson, not the actor/model. There were so many contradictions between what the public saw and what he was really like.  “He’s so beautiful, Lizzie, and he doesn’t see that in himself. I don’t understand where that insecurity comes from,” I mused.

“Beautiful?? Ewww. Sorry.” She chuckled, a nauseous look on her face. “Robbie is _not_ beautiful. He’s a disgustingly gross, annoying little brother who used to take great delight in repeatedly blowing out my lighter when I was trying to light a fag. And, this ‘beautiful’ man everyone goes on about peed on my favorite teddy bear, the one I’d had since I was a baby!  Of course, he was just a little tyke at the time, but still, he could have pointed that thing in another direction if he’d wanted to.”

And on and on she went with the funniest stories I’d ever heard, stuff that would never turn up on the Internet. These were the precious memories of their childhood: the fights, the teasing, the laughter, and the love. I read between the lines as Lizzie chattered on. Robert’s family was a close one who loved and supported each other no matter what. I couldn’t wait to meet the rest of them.

“I heard you had a run-in with our resident Whorehouse on Heels.” We both laughed at her nickname for Julia. “I can’t believe Rob used to have a thing for that slut.” She shook her head in disgust, and I agreed with her totally. “Yet another reason why women should have gotten the dicks when God was handing out parts.”

I completely lost it after that. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes. Lizzie laughed right along with me. Gosh, I loved this girl! She was so much fun! We spent quite a long time trashing Julia and others of her species.

“If she shows her face here again, ring me up. You can hold her by that stringy blond hair while I yank her nipples out by the roots—that’s assuming I can get past all of the silicone first,” Lizzie sputtered, which brought on another bout of uncontrollable laughter.

When our laughter finally died down, I asked her about Elaina Aurora.

“Aah, you know about Elaina, do you?” She sighed. “Strange relationship, that one. I never did understand what Rob saw in her. She’s rather flighty, if you know what I mean. I like her, but to be completely honest, she has DDD.”

“DDD? What’s that?” I asked, confused.

“Dick Deficit Disorder,” she answered, chuckling. “Can’t keep her attention on one dick for longer than a week at a time.”

Despite the seriousness of our conversation, I had to laugh. Lizzie had a very unique and funny way of looking at the world that I really liked.

“Don’t feel threatened by her at all. She’s fluff. That was all she was to Rob. They hung out together and partied, and I’m sure he got plenty while he was with her, because she puts out like a water faucet turned on full blast. But she doesn’t love him, and he doesn’t love her. In the short time I’ve known you, I can already tell that you have more depth to you than she does. Just think of her as another Paris Hilton-in-training. That’s what she’s like.”

Lizzie’s assurances made me feel much more at ease. Of course, I’d believed Robert when he’d told me he didn’t love her, but it was still nice to hear a woman’s perspective on the whole thing, and especially from his sister who probably knew him better than anyone.

“This has been so much fun, Lizzie. I’m glad you came over.”

She smiled warmly. “I like you. I think you’re going to be good for Rob. Much better than that Kristen person, who, in my opinion,—“

At that very moment we both heard the front door open and shut. Robert was home. Lizzie immediately stopped, and never finished her thought about Kristen, although I could probably guess what she’d left unspoken. I was glad in a way that we’d been interrupted. I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about Kristen and Robert’s infidelity. That wound was still raw and the last thing it needed was to be picked at until it bled.

“Somebody’s been shopping.” Lizzie laughed as she announced the obvious. Robert was standing in the living room doorway loaded down with shopping bags.

“I had to pick up a few things on the way home.”

A few things?! It looked like he’d bought out every store in Soho.

Lizzie popped up off the sofa and grabbed her coat. “Well, time for me to get out of here. I have things to do, places to go and people to call.” She smiled mysteriously at Robert and he smiled just as mysteriously back. Something was going on, but what, I had no clue.

We said our goodbyes, Lizzie breezed out the front door and finally Robert and I were left alone in the living room, him grinning like an overgrown schoolboy, and me wondering what in the hell was going on. He set all of the shopping bags on the table and began digging things out of them.

A medium-sized box. “I got you a laptop of your own, so we don’t have to share mine and you can work on your novel in your spare time. Here’s two jump drives for storage.” Next to emerge were two small boxes. “And, I got us both new cell phones. Matching. Except yours is red and mine is blue. Unlimited everything everywhere.” Then two more small boxes. “An iPod Touch for both of us. I lost my last one. Have no idea where it is,” he added sheepishly. “And finally…”

A blush crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks when he presented me with the last bag.

He chuckled. “I didn’t buy these for me, this time. I bought them for us.”

I peeked inside the bag and saw nothing but silk, green, blue and beige silk. I pulled them out one-by-one: silk nightgowns similar to the ones he’d bought me before, the ones I’d cut into shreds. Matching panties. A silk housecoat, also in beige. Suddenly, I was fighting the urge to cry, not just to cry, but to burst out in uncontrollable gut-wrenching sobs.

“Robert, what’s all of this for?”

“Your birthday. I didn’t get you anything, remember?” Then he scratched his head and grinned crookedly. “And uh, I didn’t know how much longer I could stand that ugly gown. I mean, it’s hideous. The BHT just goes completely limp when you put that thing on. I had to do something.”

Instead of being upset at him for spending so much money on me, my heart just swelled up with love for him. He was trying to justify buying those expensive nightgowns with the lamest argument I’d ever heard. Even lamer than the “I bought these for me” one that he’d used before.

“Completely limp?? Since when?” I asked, snickering.

“So, you like them?”

“I love them.”

“Want to try one of them on now? Maybe the blue one?”

“I’d love to.”

\-------------------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the bedroom making love, talking, sometimes dozing in the warmth of the blankets, and then talking some more. Instead of going out like I’d promised, we ended up in the living room setting up her laptop with all the software that came with it, programming our phones and playing around with ringtones, and finally downloading a crap-load of music onto our iPods.  I apologized for not taking her out, but she didn’t seem to mind, saying that the only sight she cared about seeing in London was sitting right in front of her.

I snorted ironically. “Yeah, like seeing my skinny ass in a pair of baggy underpants can compare to seeing Big Ben.”

Instead of laughing, she bit her lip and gazed off into the distance. “Big Ben. Hmmm. I sorta like that one.”

Again, it took me a few moments, but the light bulb finally came on. We were back on the subject of my dick.

“It sounds Old World and sophisticated. A rather nice _upstanding_ name for a penis, don’t you think?” She grinned and then we both busted out laughing at her intentional pun.

Right at that moment, my phone rang. Saved by the cell. It was the text message from Lizzie that I’d been waiting for. She’d made the reservations. Everything was set.

“Bella, have you unpacked yet?”

“No,” she answered with a snort. “I haven’t had time.”

“Good, because we’re going away for a bit.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Away? Where? Why?”

“Well, it’s not really “away”,” I explained. “The place is only about thirty-five minutes from here, but trust me, it feels like it’s hundreds of miles away from the city. No cameras. No reporters with microphones. Very private. For your birthday.”

“Robert,” she growled, frowning. “You’ve already done enough for me with all these gifts.”

“You don’t understand. This is for me, too. My life has been complete chaos for the past months, and it’s going to be complete chaos for the foreseeable future. I need to relax while I can, and spend time with you while I can, without anyone bothering us. This place is perfect for that.”

Finally she smiled, which set my mind at ease. “Where are we going?”

“The Grove at Hertfordshire. It looks like a huge castle and it’s surrounded by three hundred acres of nothing but woods and gardens. You’re going to love it, Bella.”

“With you there, I know I will.” 


	33. Birthday and a Present

**Thursday, January 8, 2009**

**~ ROB ~**  

I'd spent a couple of hours at the gym and then had come home to pack, only to find Bella's clothes dumped out all over the bed.

"I don't have anything nice to wear." She pouted. "Just this plain old black dress."

Well, I thought the black dress looked fine, but then my idea of a fashion statement was a pair of old jeans and my vodka t-shirt.  I shrugged, pushed some clothes out of the way, and sat down on the bed. "I'm not going there to put on a show. I'm going there to relax, and if they don't like my grungy ass, then they can give me my money back and we'll go somewhere else. But take the dress. I like it."

"You like it?" she asked. A small smile blossomed on her beautiful face.

How could I not like it? It was what was in it that mattered to me anyway.  I nodded. "I think you'll look great in it. Now I just need to find a nice t-shirt to match it that doesn't have a hole in it."

"I just don't want to look like some loser," she muttered. "In case someone snaps our picture."

"Bella." I pulled her down onto the bed beside me and wrapped my arm around her. "You are the farthest thing from a loser I've ever seen. And I'm not going to let anyone take your picture, not if I can do anything to prevent it. I don't want your face all over every tabloid in the world. So, don't worry about all of that this weekend. This is our private time together, and frankly, I really don't give a shit what people think of me, or what I wear, or what you wear, or anything like that. I worry about that stuff when I'm working, but not now. Now is my time,  _our_ time. Okay?"

She nodded, smiled and gave me a very nice kiss. I pulled her down onto the bed with me, but she wiggled out of my arms.

"Don't we have to leave by three? We don't have much time."

I sighed. She was right. We didn't have time to roll around in bed. There'd be plenty of time for that tonight, after I gave her her birthday present. I reluctantly headed off to the shower while she finished packing. Then while she was in the bathroom getting ready, I packed my stuff and made sure her gift was hidden way down in the bottom of my bag and inside my clothes.

We were out the door and in a taxi by 3:10, headed for the M1. We held hands while I gave her a guided tour of sorts as the taxi sped through the busy streets. Not long into the ride, I had the driver take a short detour down Argyll Street so she could see The London Palladium.

"That's where they hosted the BAFTAs last year," I commented, pointing to the pillared stone building on our left.

"BAFTAs?" she asked. "What's that?"

I chuckled, forgetting that she probably wouldn't know about them. Only a film freak like me paid any attention to the BAFTAs. "The British version of the Oscars."

She grinned at me and nodded. "You'll be appearing there one day," she said knowingly.

I laughed. "Not hardly. Besides, they're having them at the Royal Opera House this year, and probably from now on."

"Then you'll be at the Royal Opera House one day," she insisted stubbornly, but with a smile.

"Yeah, right." I snorted. "I don't think I'm going to get a BAFTA for playing a teenage vampire who sparkles, Bella. But you keep on hoping, girl." I laughed and mussed her hair playfully which made her frown, and in retaliation she snuck her fingers underneath my armpits and dug in. We had a mini tickling battle right there in the back seat of the taxi all the way from Argyll Street to Oxford Circus. The driver seemed to be unphased by our juvenile behavior. I guess he'd seen a lot worse in his rearview mirror than two adults acting like overgrown teenagers, wriggling about and giggling, with their feet kicking the back of his seat.

I finally gave up and pleaded for mercy. We relaxed back in our seats and caught our breath. I grabbed her hand just as we passed Regent's Park and nodded for her to look off to her left. You couldn't really appreciate the beauty of the park from a car, but she was able to get a glimpse of a little bit of the landscape as we drove by.

"Hey, there's Madame Tussauds!" she squealed as we passed road signs advertising the museum. "You're going to be in there, too."

I looked at her like she'd lost her freaking mind.

"What?" she asked, frowning.

"Do you have some sort of crystal ball in your purse?" I asked, chuckling. "Madame Tussauds is for really famous and successful movie stars. Emphasis on the word "famous". The day they make a wax figure of me is the day I'll walk naked down Trafalgar Square at noon."

"Then you better get ready to strut that gorgeous naked body of yours in broad daylight, 'cause it's gonna happen," she insisted with a crooked grin.

Gorgeous naked body? I wondered if Bella and I were talking about the same person.I just rolled my eyes and ignored her.

There wasn't anything interesting to see on the A5, so we dug out an iPod and shared earbuds. The last fifteen miles on the M1 wasn't much better, as the city started to thin and give way to golf courses and reservoirs. It was a nicer ride in summer, but who the hell was looking at the scenery anyway? Bella and I were too busy looking at each other, singing along to our music and generally acting like two dumbasses. That was part of what I liked about her. She wasn't pretentious, nor did she have overblown expectations about me. She could be kind of kooky at times, and I liked that, strangely enough. I had enough serious shit to deal with when I was working. When I relaxed, I wanted to do just that: relax and let everything loose, and with her it was easy.

When we merged off the M1 onto Western Avenue, I knew we were close. I'd driven by The Grove, but had never seen the place up close. Before this Twilight stuff, I wouldn't have even had enough money to step in the front door, let alone actually rent a suite. So, I was looking forward to this almost as much as Bella. Luxury was a new concept to me, one I'd begun to get a taste of while doing promotion for Twilight, and it beat the hell out of living in a piece of shit closet in Soho, like my friends and I had done back in the day.

A left onto Hempstead Road, and then a right onto Grove Mill Lane, and it was like we'd stepped into another world. Bella sat up and took notice, staring out the window at the beautiful landscape. Even in winter you could tell the grass here was pampered like the finest of royalty. Cattails sticking up out of the ponds, sculptured shrubs, deserted park benches nestled underneath bare-limbed trees all made the place look like something out of a picture postcard.

"Oh my God," Bella breathed, as the resort, which was perched on a slight knoll, came into view. "That's incredible."

And it was. I could tell that even from a distance. There was none of the decadence of the French Hotel Carillion to be seen. This place was stately and regal, like a 16th century castle, and it positively screamed British. I loved it.

I paid the driver, and he grabbed our bags out of the trunk. We swung open the massive front doors and emerged into the busy registration area. Four o'clock was check-in time, so naturally it was bustling with guests: families, couples like me and Bella and even lone businessmen with briefcases. I watched Bella's face as she took it all in. I'd been tossed into the sea of luxury while traveling with Summit and had gotten a bit used to it, but this was all new to her. It pleased me to see the smile on her face as she swept her eyes over the elegant décor, and also to know that I was the one who put it there.

Within thirty seconds, a concierge walked up to us and offered her assistance. In a matter of five minutes or less, Bella and I had our key card in hand and were making our way to the elevators. Our concierge informed us that our bags would be delivered to our rooms shortly, as guests were not to bother themselves with dragging luggage through the halls.

"Are you ready?" We were standing outside the dark wood-paneled door of our suite. "We have one of the Executive Suites, whatever that means," I said. "Lizzie arranged all of this, so I have no idea what's behind that door."

"Yeah, I'm ready," she answered, doing a little excited bounce on her toes. "Open it!"

I slid the card in and out really fast and unlocked the door with a soft click. I let her go first so I could watch her reaction.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Then she whipped around and grinned at me, bouncing on her toes again. "Look!" She was pointing to the baby grand piano standing in the corner of the main room. "You're going to play for me, right?" I let her know with a smile and a nod that of course I'd play for her. "Oh, this is gorgeous, Robert!"

The floors were polished hardwood, the walls painted a soft beige and bathed in recessed lighting. A maroon chaise and white chair were grouped by the piano. Two bowls of fresh strawberries sat on the shiny wooden coffee table between them. A large black sofa sat in front of a fireplace, which had been laid with a small fire before our arrival. A glass dining table sat near the window, offering anyone eating there an excellent view of the woods outside. Overall it was very elegant, but homey at the same time.

I popped a couple of strawberries into my mouth as Bella trotted out of the room. Within a few seconds I heard a squeal of delight. "OMG! We have a swimming pool in here! Come look!"

I tracked her to the bathroom down the hall, and peeked into the room. Holy fuck! She was right. The tub/Jacuzzi was bigger than my entire bathroom back in Soho. "I know what we're doing tonight," I said, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She smiled and then blushed. I loved it when her face went pink from something I'd said or done. I pulled her into my arms and kissed the hell out of her right there beside the toilet for a very long time.

"Mmmm, strawberry flavored kisses," she purred, and then came back for more.

"Wonder what the bedroom looks like?" I murmured against her neck as I laid down a trail of kisses from her ear to her shoulder.

"Mmmm, let's go see." Chill bumps rose all over me at the suggestive sound of her voice.

We pushed open the door to the only room left unexplored and peeked in. Bella made a soft adoring sound and made a beeline for the canopied dark cherry bed. It was surrounded by see-through brown netting tied at each of the bed posts. Dark brown and beige pillows and a matching beige quilt covered the huge mattress. The coverlet was turned down and just waiting for my naked ass to crawl underneath it with Bella. My dick twitched. Like me, he could sooo see us getting it on in that bed tonight. Then I decided why wait?

I grinned crookedly and shot her a wink. "Let's try it out. You know, see if it's hard or soft."

"Oh, it's definitely hard," she drawled seductively. "I can tell that from here."

She dropped onto the bed and scooted her body up until her head was on the pillows. She stretched out and crooked her finger at me, giving me the most dick-hardening crooked little smile on the planet. She bit her lip and grinned as I dug at my jeans to adjust the furniture.

"Is the big hand on the twelve yet?" she asked, giggling.

I laughed and then pounced on her, pinning her to the bed and rubbing Big Ben all over her crotch, and God did it feel good. We were just getting into it when we heard a loud knock from down the hall. Shit.

"You go answer it. I don't think whoever's at the door wants to be poked in the eye with my dick." I chuckled and rolled off of her and onto my back.

"You wish." She snorted and rolled her eyes. "It's probably our bags. I'll be right back." She slid off the bed, wiggled her ass and giggled as she pranced out of the room.

I listened to the muffled conversation down the hall between Bella and whoever had delivered our bags. It was going on way to long to suit me. The big hand had dropped to two o'clock and was wilting fast. But I knew as soon as she pranced back through that door, it was going to shoot right straight up to twelve again, so I wasn't too awfully worried, just impatient. Finally, I heard the door close and in a few seconds she was back beside me on the bed with her fingers wrapped around my "big hand" through my jeans.

"Still high noon, I see." She laughed as I groaned and rolled her over onto her back. We got into the crotch rubbing thing again and I was contemplating ripping her clothes off when I heard it. I pulled away from her neck long enough to look down at her.

"Good God, was that your stomach?" I asked, chuckling.

"Ignore it," she said breathlessly, and pulled me back down to her. Her tongue touched my teeth, and then the inside of my lip, and my dick went hog-throbbing-wild. Then her stomach growled again, really loud, and for an abnormally long time. We both heard it, and broke out into laughter.

"Jesus, Bella. I can't concentrate with all this noise. You need to eat, baby, then we'll pick up where we left off." I laughed and rolled over onto my back. She growled in frustration but agreed with me.

We debated going downstairs to search for a restaurant, but then decided to order in. According to the pamphlet beside our bed, there was 24 hour room service in this place available from all four restaurants. Boy, were they going to regret that, since I could get the munchies at the oddest times. I'd developed the habit of eating late while traveling and doing promotion. Late at night seemed to be the only time I'd had to stop, take a breather, and realize I was hungry as hell.  From the menus we found in our bedside table drawer, we decided on Stone Baked Pizza with artichokes, black olives and rocket from The Stables restaurant.

"What in the heck is rocket? And will I die from eating it?" she asked.

"It's a kind of lettuce. Very spicy. You'll like it, I promise." I delivered a peck of a kiss to her lips and then placed our order over the house phone.

While we waited, we decided it would be best to leave off with the making out and unpack our bags. Mine didn't take that long: stuff a few jeans in a drawer, poke the wadded-up underpants in the corner of the same drawer, and do it all over again with the socks. Before I could jam my t-shirts in there, Bella growled and grabbed them from my hand. I let her, since I was focusing more on making sure her gift stayed hidden inside my bag.

"You'll be all rumpled if you just stuff your clothes in a drawer like that," she said, scowling.

Didn't she realize that rumpled was my signature look? But I didn't say anything; I just let her hang my shirts up alongside hers. It seemed to make her happy. Then she carefully folded her panties—her panties for fuck's sakes!—and placed them in a drawer. Who folds their panties? She laid out her socks one pair beside the other right next her panties.

"You're a little OCD, aren't you?" I joked as I watched her place her jeans on a hanger.

She shrugged and smiled. "I just like my stuff neat."

"You do realize that I lose or misplace bits of my ass everywhere I go. I'm as far away from OCD as you can get. Is that going to bother you?"

She shrugged and smiled again. "I don't know. Is it going to bother you if I go behind you and pick up the little bits of your ass and put them back where they belong?"

 _Good question._ "I don't know that either," I answered. "It's been awhile since I've shared a space with another person. It might take some getting used to."

Another knock at the door interrupted our conversation, and signaled the arrival of our dinner. We spread everything out on the small, round glass table by the window in the main room. We dug into the pizza, with all thoughts of our differences in neatness pushed to the background. Cheese, crispy crust, shit. This thing was seriously blowing my low-fat diet all to hell, but I was on holiday. I deserved this. I wondered if my trainer would buy that argument.

"Damn, this is awesome. I've never tasted pizza as good as this."

I agreed with her, so not much talking went on while we devoured every last bit of it. She did mention the wisdom of my eating a fourth piece and I knew what she was getting at: my stupid "nutritional plan". I sighed and promised to stick closer to my diet for the rest of the weekend. She grinned and bit her lip when I told her I'd just have to indulge myself in other areas to make up for it.  When we'd eaten every last bit of food, I decided now was a good time to give her her birthday present.

"I have a gift for you, for your birthday," I announced softly.

"Robert, no!" she whined. "You've already bought me so many nice things, and this place, I can't even imagine how much all this costs."

"Let's go in the bedroom." I pulled her by the hand down the hall, with her scowling at me the whole way. I laughed and ignored her. She was never going to guess what I had for her, but it was going to be so much fun watching her try.  

She sat down cross-legged on the bed, while I got my bag. Then I joined her, mirroring her pose and with her present tucked in the bag behind my back.  "See if you can guess what it is."

"I need a hint," she said. A tiny frown was still wrinkled across her forehead. "No one's that good."

"Okay, one hint. It didn't cost me a thing. No money left my pocket for this one," I announced, pleased as punch with myself that I'd taken her one argument against another gift and tossed it completely out the window.

"None?" she asked, clearly astonished.

I shook my head and grinned. She stared at me and I could see the wheels grinding away inside her head, but she was coming up with nothing.

She pouted. "I need another hint."

"Okay. It didn't cost anything AND you can't keep it. You have to give it back."

"I can't keep it?" she exclaimed. "What the hell kind of gift is that?"

I cracked up, laughed my ass off actually, and eventually she broke down and laughed with me. "Tell me, Robert. I'm never going to guess, so just give it to me."

"Okay, close your eyes." She squeezed them shut and promised not to peek. I reached around behind me and slid her gift out of my bag. I laid it on the bed between us, right side up. Took a deep breath. "You can open them."

She opened her eyes, and then automatically shifted her gaze to the bed. She frowned and then smiled. "Awwww, how sweet. You got me a manila envelope. Just what I've always wanted."

I shot her a play-glare. "There's something inside it, silly." 

"Couldn't you spring a couple of bucks for some wrapping paper?" She picked it up and peered at the return address. "Hmmm, it's from Summit." Then she slipped her hand inside and pulled out the contents. Sheets of white covered in blue.

Her mouth dropped open and then all hell broke loose in our quiet bedroom. "Robert! The New Moon script! _OH MY GOD!_ " Bella screamed at the top of her lungs, dropped the script, and then pushed me flat on my ass all over the bed. She smothered me in kisses, laughing and telling me how much she loved me and how I was the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for, hugging me until I couldn't breathe and then kissing me some more, promising me she'd do anything for me, anything I asked because I was the most thoughtful guy on the planet.

"Does this mean I'll get some tonight?" I asked, when she finally stopped squealing and laughing and trying to love me to death.

"Yes, you're getting some tonight, any way you want it, just name it," she answered, grinning and clutching the script to her chest like it was a long-lost lover.

I wiggled my eyebrows and grinned. "I'm going to hold you to that. Aren't you going to open it and look inside?"

She scooted up to the top of the bed and propped herself up on pillows. I joined her and we snuggled up together and dug into the script.

She was flipping through it pretty quickly, so I figured she was looking for THE scene. "It's dog-eared. The break up scene, if that's what you're looking for."

"Of course that's what I'm looking for. It's only the most important scene in the whole movie." She turned to the already worn page that I'd been going over and over since I'd gotten the script in the mail. She skimmed through it and then cursed softly.  "Ooooh, that Rosenberg bitch has done it again!" she fumed. "She's messed up this whole scene! Look at this." She pointed to a particular passage and recited it in a surprisingly bitchy voice. I'd never seen Bella behave this way.

"'Try to understand. Every second with you is about restraint. You're too fragile. I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. Reining myself in so I can be with a human.'  Ugh, what a load of crap that is. That's not how it goes. It's supposed to say, 'But what happened the other night made me realize it's time for a change. Because I'm…tired of pretending to be something I'm not. I am not human.'"

"Do you have this whole thing memorized?" I asked, astounded that she could quote it word for word from memory.

"You'd better believe I do, and so do a gazillion other girls who are going to be sitting in that audience. Look at this! _OH MY GOD!"_ She sat up and jabbed at another part of the script and started reading lines again.

 

_*EDWARD*_

_I've let it go on too long. I'm sorry._

_*Tears sting Bella's eyes. This can't be happening. He steps forward... kisses her_ _forehead. She closes her eyes.*_

_*EDWARD*_

_I promise, it will be like I never existed. Goodbye, Bella._

_*And here, for the first time, we SEE how truly agonizing this really is for Edward. But Bella doesn't see._  
_By the time she opens her eyes - he's gone. She spins -*_

 

"Edward is supposed to say, 'I'll make you a promise in return. I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I'd never existed'. I swear to God that woman butchers Stephenie's beautiful books to pieces. The Twilight script made me want to puke and this one doesn't look much better." She turned on her side and faced me. "You've got to get this changed. This seriously sucks. Edward has to at least say that line about 'no more interference from me'. Will they listen to you?"

"I think maybe I need to read that scene in the book," I conceded.

"Yes, you definitely do, because you've got to get this scene right. Edward is falling to pieces inside, and this script does nothing to show that. It makes him sound so abrupt and cold. It's up to you to make sure everyone realizes how badly Edward is hurting. Do they listen to suggestions from you guys?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes. Maybe this time they will, since we've fleshed out these characters already in another movie. All directors are different, though. Some like input from the actors and some want us to just keep our mouths shut and do our jobs. We'll just have to wait and see what Chris Weitz is like. I'll try my best to see if they can change it." I kissed her cheek. "Just for you."

We spent quite a long time going over the rest of the script page by page. She was surprised by just how few parts I had, to which I laughed and assured her that that was fine with me. I was happy that Taylor was taking all the pressure off of my shoulders for once and carrying the whole film by himself. It was a big responsibility and a hell of a lot of work, but he could do it. It was relief to know that pretty much all I had to do was stand in front of a green screen and look all sad and shit, which was basically my specialty.

"Wow, the scene with the Volturi is completely different from the book." She read it over, then turned back and read it over again before making her official fangirl proclamation. "I think it's actually better than the book. Maybe I was a bit hasty calling MR a bitch." She chuckled. "Some of this other stuff she's put in isn't half bad, either. But I don't know why she always feels the need to chop up Stephenie's beautiful quotes. That's what makes these books so special."

"But keep in mind that this isn't the final script. Look at the date. It was revised in December. It'll probably be revised a couple more times before we start shooting. And even then, sometimes the director throws stuff out right there on the set. What ends up on film is sometimes a lot different than what's in the script. You may still end up getting the break up scene the way you want it."

She laid down the script on the bed beside her and rolled over against me. "I can't wait to see you as Edward again. Only this time, it's going to be a lot different, because now I know the real man behind the makeup." She sighed and kissed me, soft and deep-a 'God, I love you so much' kind of kiss and I gave the same right back to her.  "Thank you, Robert. This is the best birthday present ever, even if I do have to give it back," she murmured in between nibbling at my mouth.

"Uhm…Bella." I pulled away from her, but she followed me, still nibbling at my bottom lip. "Why don't we take this into the bathroom," I suggested, grinning.

She gave a soft little squeal and grinned. "Good idea!"

We slid off the bed, and Bella took off down the hall to the bathroom. I joined her beside the enormous bathtub/Jacuzzi and we both just stood there, staring down at it in silence. I didn't know what she was thinking, but the BHT and I were thinking we were going to get wet, wild and lucky tonight.  Bella reached down and turned the faucet on full blast. It was quite a forceful stream of water, but even with that, it was going to take a long time to fill that sucker up and I was fucking impatient as hell.

"Maybe we can go take a walk through the woods and it'll be full by the time we get back," she said with a soft laugh.

"Or maybe, while we're waiting, we could just get all dirty on this rug right here, and jump in the tub when we're done," I suggested with a crooked grin.

She shook her head and grinned. "Nuh uh. No way. We're doing it in the tub, so you're just going to have to have some patience."

Oh fuck yes. My dick jumped up and did a dance. Another one of the choices from my sexual drop-down menu was finally going to get fulfilled. We'd done me on top, her on top, against the wall, on the floor, and had almost done it in her window seat, and probably would have if my damned legs weren't so fucking long. So, all that was left was kitchen table, in the shower and in the tub (which was going to happen tonight!). And I was fairly sure that before it was over with, Bella and I would add a lot more options to that menu. We were both the creative types who like to think outside the box. The possibilities were endless.

While the tub was filling, we got things started by just doing a lot of kissing. I was good at that, and Bella loved it, if the sweet sounds she made in my mouth were any indication. Then we slowly undressed each other, and I mean really slowly. I crawled my fingers up underneath her sweater and felt around in there for a long time before the thing finally came off and landed on the tiles. I reached around and almost got her bra unclasped all by myself. Almost. I didn't quite make it, but I was getting better. She one-handed it behind her back, and then it fell open and dropped to the floor.

I was too fucking tall to get to her breasts with my mouth without sitting down, so I sank down onto the side of the tub and pulled her down onto my lap. I rolled those beautiful mounds around in my mouth and hands, and flicked her nipples with my tongue until they hardened. She was rocking her hips and grinding her crotch across my dick and it felt so fucking good that I was tempted to say 'to hell with the tub' and just hit it right there on the edge of that monstrosity that wasn't even half full yet.

Then she eased herself off my lap and sank to her knees between my legs. Those brown eyes traveled slowly up my torso, lingering on my dick which was about to bust out of my jeans, and then finally landing on my face. She smiled, and it was that special smile she always gave me right before she launched into full sex-kitten-slut mode. It was fucking beautiful.

She ran a finger lightly up the denim-covered length of my erection, from the base all the way to the tip and then back down-over and over again until I had to beg her to stop, because it was feeling too damned good. I watched her slowly loosen each button of my fly and when it was completely undone and laying open, she slipped another lone finger inside and just barely touched me through my underwear.

I cursed softly and raised my ass up off the tiled edge of the tub. She took my hint, and tugged my jeans down past my knees, and left them bunched down around my ankles. Next came the underwear, which she very carefully maneuvered around and over my throbbing boner, and down my legs to where they finally joined my jeans at the ankles. She was much better at getting around obstacles now, than she was that first night in her bedroom.

Then those tiny, delicate fingers closed around the base of my dick and then traveled slowly upward. I groaned and rolled my eyes back into my head. I managed to finally get them open long enough to see all that beautiful thick brown hair of hers draped across my thighs. Some of it was tickling my balls, but surprisingly enough, that tickling shit felt good, too. Everything this girl did to me felt fucking incredible.  Then I watched as she slid my dick slowly into her mouth. "Oh fuuuuuuuuuuck,"I moaned, long and loud. I leaned back on my hands, closed my eyes and let my head and the rest of me just fall back into oblivion. Her mouth was so hot, and she kept it clamped down tight on my shaft just as if I were inside of her. Without even thinking, I started to pump my hips up off the edge of the tub, very slowly and rhythmically into her mouth. There was no fucking way we were going to make it to the tub if we kept this up. But it felt so damn good that I couldn't bring myself to stop. So, fate intervened on my behalf, as it always seemed to do.

"Shit!" I yelped. My dick popped out of her mouth. She yelped too, and then fell back on her ass onto the floor. The fucking tub was running over! My naked ass was drenched and water was cascading over the sides, pooling into my jeans and running across the floor.

Thankfully, Bella didn't have a raging rock-hard boner interfering with her thinking processes, and she was able to jump to the side of the tub and cut the damn thing off. I wouldn't have been able to do it even if I had been thinking straight. My damn pants were wrapped around my ankles like a pair of ten-pound lead shackles. I would have busted my ass just trying to get turned around on the slick tiles. After she shut off the water she opened the drain plug and we fell down in the floor and laughed our soaked asses off while the tub made glug, glug, glug noises in the background.

"Jesus, what a mess," I commented dryly, when we'd both finally laughed ourselves out.

"You should have paid more attention," she scolded me. "You were the one sitting on the edge of the tub."

"Me? I was busy working up a cum! You can't expect a guy to notice something like that when his dick is buried nearly up to the balls in his girl's mouth!"

"Well, a girl can't see anything but a hairy stomach when she's doing that shit, so don't blame me," she said, and then laughed. "We'll clean this up later. I'm getting in the tub."

She rolled her wet jeans and panties off, stepped over me, shut off the drain and then sank down into the water. I yanked and kicked at the soaked denim wrapped around my ankles until I managed to wrangle myself out of them. I pulled off my shirt and threw it into a corner and joined her in the now chest-high water at the opposite end of the tub. Sex was pretty much out of the question now, since my big hand had wilted into a second hand, so I figured I might as well enjoy the bath. We dropped our heads back onto the tiles surrounding the tub, closed our eyes and just lay there, quietly soaking in the warmth.

"This is nice," Bella whispered.

I grunted a soft agreement and continued to soak. My legs were stretched out almost straight, with my feet tucked in against her hips. I was pretty damn comfortable considering I was in a tub, and was just drifting off when something sharp poked me in the nuts.

"Wake up." She chuckled. "You'll slip under and drown."

I jerked awake. "Shit, Bella!" I croaked. "Watch it with the toenails!"

She laughed and shut her eyes again. While she wasn't paying attention, I decided to take that opportunity to get back at her. Two could play the jagged toenail in the genitals game. I waited until she shifted her body just a bit, just enough so I could dart my foot in between her legs. I jabbed my big assed toe right in that warm place and wiggled the shit out of it.

"Ow! Robert!" she squealed. "What are you doing? Get that thing away from me!" She laughed and scooted to the side of the tub, causing some more water to slop up and over the edge into the floor.

I poked my foot up out of the water in her direction. "Make yourself useful and wash my feet, woman," I ordered playfully while wiggling my ugly toes in her face. I fully expected her to completely gross out and tell me to wash my own damned feet like Kristen had, but she surprised me.

"Awww, gimme that cute little foot and I'll wash it." She cooed over my ugly-assed bony foot like it was a newborn baby.

"You'd do that? Wash my sweaty, stinky feet?" I asked in disbelief.

"Of course I would." She smiled and I could tell she meant it. She really meant it, and the funny thing was, I loved her all the more because of that. I knew it was stupid to attach such importance to something as dumb as washing your boyfriend's feet, but that small little thing told who really loved me and who didn't.

"I was just joking. You don't have to do that." But she held onto my foot anyway, and before I realized what she was doing, my big toe was in her mouth. _GROSS!_

I yanked it out in disgust and submerged it back underneath the water. "Don't do that! That's…ugh…gross!" I visibly shivered at just the thought of it.

"Oh really?" She smirked and folded her arms across her chest. "So putting your dick in my mouth is perfectly fine, but your toes are gross. I don't get that."

Well hell. Dicks were made to go into mouths. Everybody knew that. Toes were a different story, however.  "Toes are sweaty and grimy, and full of lint and stuff," I explained, cringing at the memory of the junk I'd found between my toes. "Big Ben is, well, he's clean…most of the time. So if you're dying to stick something in your mouth…" I pointed downward to where my dick was floating underneath the water like sea anemone swaying gracefully with the tide.

"Gimme that foot," she growled.

Her mouth set in a determined line as she fished around underneath the water. We played foot tag for awhile until we realized we were slopping even more water out onto the floor. I finally gave in and let her have her way. I let Bella suck my toes, and damn, after awhile that sucking shit began to feel pretty good. I discovered that the secret to keeping it from tickling was to imagine it was my dick she was licking and sucking and skimming her teeth up and down. If I thought about it that way then it turned into some seriously sexy foreplay.

"Come here," I ordered softly. I was done with the toe thing, and ready for some serious penetration.

She scooted close to me and straddled my legs. A little nudge to raise her hips up in the water and I was inside and diving into the deep end of that thing. She wrapped her arms around my neck and began kissing me, and pumping me, and tonguing me, and moaning her beautiful tiny ass off, and I was giving it back to her in spades. Water was sloshing all around us as we rocked together. I was so into the orgasm that was building that I didn't realize I'd been sliding gradually lower into the tub. When I choked down a mouthful of water and came up gagging, I decided that was it. I was done with fucking in the bathtub. It was highly over-rated.

"That's it," I said. "Let's get out."

She didn't say a word, but just slid off of me and stepped out. I gathered up all six feet of my gangly self and crawled out, too. We were beginning to get all pruney anyway, so it was probably for the best.

"We can always use the shower," she suggested with that sexy little grin of hers. "We can stand up. No drowning."

She giggled when I growled at her again. She opened the door to the shower stall which was almost as huge as the bathtub. I was at the point that I'd settle for anything. I'd been so close before, and now my dick was throbbing like a toothache. When she reached in to turn on the water, she had to stretch her body and as a result of that stretching the cheeks of her ass parted just enough to give me a tantalizing glimpse of what I should have been deep inside of at that very moment, instead of standing naked with my feet in cold water and shivering my horny ass off.

As soon as she was inside the stall, I was all over her. I slammed the shower door shut, turned her around, bent her over and slid into her deep and hard. She braced her hands against the far wall and held on. Needles of hot water stung my back, but I didn't care enough to do anything about it. Bella was rocking backward just as hard as I was pounding forward. We were making a hell of a racket as our bodies slapped hard against each other.

Yeah, I was aware somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind that this wasn't exactly the sweet romantic sex I'd planned for Bella's birthday, but she didn't seem to mind that I'd gone all cave-man on her. In fact, after about two or three minutes of my pounding into her, she started to tighten around me. She was clamped around my dick like a hot vice grip and I was hanging by my fingernails trying to wait for her. I gritted my teeth and cursed, my jaw clenched tight with the effort to hold back. Then just before I thought I couldn't hold it any longer, she came, and like an avalanche crashing down a mountainside, she took me with her, screaming the whole way down.

After it was over, I turned her around and gathered her into my arms. With the water cascading down our bodies, I kissed her, hugged her, and whispered into her ear. She murmured her love to me, and tenderly ran her fingers all over my body as far as she could reach. Eventually, we pulled apart, and soaped each other up. I washed her hair, and she washed mine, what little of it there was left to wash. We kissed a lot. Touched a lot. Told each other how much we loved each other… _a lot._

We dried off and decided to leave the water in the floor for tomorrow. I watched her blow dry her hair in our bedroom, and then we crawled in bed together. I spooned her in against me. We talked for a few minutes, and then we just quit and listened to each other breathe. Right before I feel asleep, I thought about how strange sex and love were, at least in my mind they were. Sex was nothing but pure lust while you were in the middle of doing it—a hard dick and nothing else involved but thinking of where you wanted to put it and how deep. But somehow, after all of that was over, the love stole back in, like there was no room for it while you were going at it. But afterward, everything was tender and sweet, and you just felt so close to the person in your arms, so complete. I'd never felt like that with anyone else before. I'd felt the lust many times, but never the love that always came after with Bella.

I realized that we were living in our own little bubble. Everything was easy, for both of us. The true test would come when I returned to work: the grueling shooting schedules, the promotional tours, the screaming fans, and trying to keep her behind the scenes and out of the limelight. But no matter what happened with this Twilight stuff, I had to make sure that we continued to have time like this together if this was going to work. No matter what we had to do to accomplish it, she had to be with me, no matter where I happened to be, or what I happened to be doing.

I sighed softly at the irony in this situation, because to loosely quote a very famous, uptight 108 year-old vampire by the name of Edward Cullen: 

Bella was my life now.

 

**THE LONDON PALLADIUM WHERE THE BAFTAs WERE HELD UNTIL 2009**

 

**REGENT'S PARK (a summer picture)**

**THE APPROACH TO THE GROVE IN HERTFORDSHIRE**

**THE GROVE AT HERTFORDSHIRE (a summer picture)**

**THE MAIN ROOM IN OUR EXECUTIVE SUITE**

**OUR BEDROOM**


	34. Insecurities

_**Friday, January 9, 2009** _

**~ BELLA ~**

He was sitting at the baby grand piano with his back to me, his hands gliding effortlessly over the keys. The piece he was playing—apparently from memory as there was no music in front of him—was complex and intense. I found it hard to believe that such beautiful sounds could come from one man's long fingers.  I joined him on the piano bench. He didn't turn to look at me, but I saw a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he acknowledged my presence and continued to play.

"I suddenly feel very insignificant," I said with a sigh.

He laughed softly and then changed music in midstream. What now flowed from his fingers was simple and sweet and very melodic.

"You inspired this one," he said.

A warm feeling spread through me as I listened. He'd composed a song just for me. I'd never had anyone do that before and it made me feel special and loved. I closed my eyes and let the melody carry me away.

"Who is _SHE?"_

My eyes flipped open in shock at the sound of some girl's smarmy voice interrupting our romantic moment.

He looked up from the keys and smiled at the girl standing at the end of the piano. "Bella," he answered without interrupting the flow of the music.

I stared across the piano at the intruder in question. _Kristen Stewart? What the fuck is she doing here?_

"She's not Bella, _I'm_ Bella," Kristen announced haughtily.

Edward stopped playing and looked at both of us. Then he turned to Kristen and smiled. "Of course you are, my love. I'll ask her to leave."

My mouth dropped open and I saw red. "What the hell? She's an actress, Robert! That's not Bella, _I'm_ Bella! My real name is Isabella! That's Kristen Stewart!"

He turned to me as if he'd just now noticed me. "Robert? Who's Robert? Are you seeing someone else? I thought we loved each other Julia, and now I find out that you're cheating on me?"

"Julia? What the…?"

I was too confused to say anything else. I sat there with my mouth dropped open in shock as Robert got up from the piano and went to Kristen's side. Strange, but the music continued to play even though his hands were no longer touching the keys.

"What about _HER?_ " Kristen asked him in that annoyingly smug voice of hers.

He turned his head and glanced back at me with a sad smile. "Don't worry about her. She's just a silly fan girl."

As the music continued to play, they glided from the room and left me alone.

\----------------------------------------

I drifted awake and blinked. The dream floated away as reality slowly crept back in. Or had it? The same music that I'd heard in my dream was still playing. "What?" I whispered. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. As the music continued, I finally realized it was coming from down the hall.  _It's Robert! He's playing the piano!_ I checked Robert's side. Yep, it was empty. I threw back the covers and shot out of bed, searching frantically for something to put on. His ratty vodka t-shirt was the first thing I saw. I shimmied it on, hurriedly pulled on some panties and then tip-toed down the hall into the bathroom.

I quickly brushed my teeth as quietly as I could, swiped the brush through my hair and pinched my cheeks to give them some color, used the bathroom and I was ready to go. I snuck quietly down the hall, leaned against the door jamb to the main room and stared lovingly at him as he played.

He was facing me at an angle, but so focused on the song he was playing that he didn't even notice I was there. His lips were pursed in concentration, and his eyes moved constantly with his fingers. The man was just so beautiful, and even more so when he let the music flow out of him. He was playing "Bella's Lullaby" from the Twilight movie. How appropriate.

"I suddenly feel very insignificant."

He stopped playing as soon as he heard my voice. He smiled and then scratched his head.  "Uh, I've heard that somewhere before. Is that a line from the movie?" he asked with a crooked grin.

I laughed and joined him on the bench. "Unfortunately, no. MR strikes again. It never made it out of the pages of the book. But, you were supposed to say 'You inspired this one.'"

"Damn. How do remember all of that stuff?" He chuckled. "I can barely remember my own lines."

I shrugged and smiled. "I'm a—" Suddenly that stupid dream crept back into my mind along with Dream-Robert's words. "—fan girl," I finished softly.

"My number _one_ fan girl." He smiled and then leaned against me, nuzzling his face in my hair and against my neck.

I turned to face him and brushed away the strands of my hair that had latched onto the stubble on his jaw. Cupping his face in my hands, I kissed him hard. That stupid dream had left me feeling uneasy and sad. I needed to feel him close to me. I needed to see his smile, feel his mouth on mine, taste every part of him that I could, just to reassure myself that he was mine. Some days I couldn't believe it.

"Nice gown. You look really good in vodka."

He snaked his hand underneath the hem of the shirt, the piano and the song he'd been playing completely forgotten. I giggled and squirmed at the feel of his long fingers invading my warm girly-space, but instead of heading back to the bedroom, we both agreed that food took precedence at the moment. We were both starving.

"I'll get the menus." I started to get up from the piano bench, but he stopped me.

"Let's eat out for a change," he suggested instead. "They serve breakfast at The Glasshouse. I checked."

I wasn't sure eating out was such a great idea. I'd seen firsthand Robert's discomfort at being in public when we'd spent the day at Moulton Falls. I voiced my objection, but he laughed it off.

"This is England," he explained. "Things are different here than in the United States. Most of the people here don't even know what Twilight is. It's just not that big of a deal."

"Yet. But it will be, and you will be, too," I pointed out, my voice filled with a smugness that I knew annoyed him.

He sighed at my supreme confidence that he was heading for super-stardom someday, and took off down the hall to the bedroom to get dressed. I followed him, smiling at the sight of his sexy little tight butt, which was so cute in his black form-fitting Calvins.

"Cute butt." I giggled.

He acknowledged my astute assessment of his ass with nothing more than a silent shake of his head, not even bothering to turn around and argue with me about it. The man was clueless when it came to his "assets".

"We should clean up that mess in the bathroom before we go," I insisted as we passed the bathroom door.

"Nope, don't you even think about it. The price of the room covers it. They'll clean it while we're gone to breakfast."

"But—"

I didn't even get the second word out before he stopped and glared at me. He was obviously adamant about it. Huh. Robert was showing a stubborn side that I'd never seen before. It was kind of cute.

We both dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts, and this time he followed me back down the hall to the main room.

"Now _that_ is a cute butt," he observed from behind me.

I grinned at him over my shoulder, and wiggled my ass in his direction. "I know."

He laughed and grabbed me around the waist. "You are such a tease." He kissed me over and over, in between calling me a slut, a sex kitten, and a slapper.

"What's a slapper?" I asked, laughing and pulling out of his arms.

He grinned. "That's British slang for a slut."

"Mmm, that's a very vivid image you've planted inside my mind. Let's get this eating junk over with so we can get on with the really important stuff…like slapping."  I wriggled out of his arms and headed for the door, but he grabbed onto my hand and pulled me back.

"Just a minute. I want to talk to you about something before we go downstairs."

His serious tone set off all of my relationship alarms, which seemed to be on high alert since that stupid dream I'd had this morning.  "What is it?" I asked, trying to hide my uneasiness.

"Let's sit down."

He led me by the hand to the sofa, and continued to hold my hand in his as we sat side-by-side. He met my eyes, and took a deep breath. _Oh hell. This is going to be bad._

"I don't quite know how to say this…" he started and then stopped.

He raked his fingers through his short hair. His nervous habit was endearing most of the time, but right now it scared the hell out of me. I waited for him to continue while my heart started to pound out of my chest in fear. _Is he dumping me?_ A second after I thought it, I realized how stupid it was. We were on our way down to eat breakfast, and he'd just told me I had a cute butt. Not the kind of behavior for a man who was about to dump his girlfriend.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," he continued, and then stopped again. "Damn," he swore softly. "There's no good way to say this."

I swallowed but there was nothing in my mouth to go down. It was as dry as dirt. I finally found my voice amid all of the fear. "Just tell me."

He sighed and then gave me a realistic look at what my life was going to be like as Robert Pattinson's girlfriend. It was an eye-opener, to be sure.

"This is the first time we're going out in public together where there's going to be a lot of people," he said hesitantly. "And I don't want you to think that I'm ashamed of you, because I'm not. It's just that, I don't want to take any chances with you. If someone who recognizes me sees us together, I want them to just see two friends hanging out. You can even be the girlfriend of one of my friends, if we're asked. Sam or Tom or any of my friends will back me up if it comes to that. And like I said, I don't want you to take this the wrong way. If my life were normal and not this twisted and fucked up mess that it is right now, I'd be all over you in public. I'd probably get arrested for indecency or something. We'd be making out in theaters and on park benches." He chuckled and then turned serious again. "If the press ever discovers you're my girl, your life is fucked, Bella. They'll hound you to death just because you're dating me. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"

He waited for me to say something. The problem was, I was so shocked that I didn't know what to say at first. If the women of the world only knew how unbelievably wonderful this man was, they'd kill their own grandmothers to get to him.  "I understand. And that is the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," I said with a romantic sigh.

His eyebrows shot up in shock and then he frowned, sending a cute little wrinkle all across his forehead. "What?"

Like I said, the man was clueless. "I understand what you're saying and I know you're only doing this because you love me. You want to protect me, and keep me safe from the paps. I understand,  _really_. It's sweet of you. So, I take it that we can't hold hands or kiss or gaze lovingly into each other's eyes. Nor can I squeeze your ass or grab you by the balls or run my finger up and down Big Ben, or anything like that. And you can't stare at my tits or my ass for prolonged periods of time like you want to eat them. Did I miss anything?" I asked with a giggle.

He was smiling by the time I got through, and I knew at that moment that we were going to be all right. Fuck Dream Kristen and her insistence that she was Bella. _I_ was the real Bella, and even better, I was Robert Pattinson's girl. It didn't matter to me that the world would never know it.

"That uh…pretty much covers it, I think. God, I love you." And he spent a good bit of time showing me just how much.

\----------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

We were met at the door of The Glasshouse by a very attentive wait staff. After settling at our table and placing our order, we got up to gawk at the far wall like two stereotypical tourists. As our waiter had informed us, there were over five thousand spoons balanced on that wall by the tips of their handles. Bella and I spent several minutes trying to figure out how they'd managed it, but we never came up with an answer.

The buffet was amazing. We ate until we could barely breathe, and talked about whatever popped into our heads, as we sat across from each other like two friends just having an innocent brunch.

Keeping my hands and eyes off of her in public was hard as hell, and I wished several times that I'd never suggested it. When she laid her hand on the table by her plate, I wanted to reach over and hold it, just twine my fingers in with hers and to hell with whether anyone saw it or not. I was painfully aware of her leg touching mine underneath the small table. It was everything I could do not to gaze into her eyes like some love sick puppy and drool onto my chin during the entire meal. Trying to maintain a façade of friendship with someone who could give you a boner with just one look was easier said than done.  Regardless of that, breakfast was everything I could have hoped for. No one recognized me, or if they did they didn't give one big shit about it. Bella and I were just two ordinary people in scruffy jeans feeding our faces in understated luxury to our heart's content.

"Let's go for a walk through the woods. I know that it's cold, but cold doesn't bother us." She arched an eyebrow and grinned, reminding me of that day at Moulton Falls when our cold…no, our _frigid_...hands had wandered into warm places.

"I'm up for that, but…" I let my voice trail off, hesitant to bring up work when I was supposed to be on holiday. "I really need to turn on my phone and check my messages. I've had it off since we left the apartment. It may take a while to go through them, but I'll only deal with the really important ones. Do you mind?"

She studied me, deep in thought and then smiled. "I'll tell you what. You go back up to the room and take care of your messages, and I'll poke around down here and see what this place has to offer in the way of entertainment. How about that? I'll come back up to the room in about a half hour to forty-five minutes and we'll go for a walk."

"Sounds good."

\------------------------------------------

To say that I had a million messages wouldn't have been far off the mark. I scrolled through them and decided to kill as many birds with one stone as I could. I answered Tom's text and asked him to let the rest of my friends know that I was out of pocket until Sunday. I sent my mum a text and assured her that I was still alive and to let the family know, especially Lizzie, that I was having a great time. I deleted a missed call from Julia. How the fuck did she know my number?

That left work. Cathy had called a couple of times. I figured she was worth a call-back, especially if I wanted to live to see my children born. She answered on the second ring.

_"Rob! How the hell are you?"_

"I'm great. What's up?"

_"Just checking in to see if you're okay and make sure you got the script."_

I assured her that I had gotten it, and we discussed New Moon-related business for a little while.

_"How's the training going?"_

"It's good. I'm going to be so buff when I get back to the States that you're going to be begging me to marry you," I said, laughing at our private joke.

_"Oh, baby, I'm all aflutter."_

Her laughter on the other end made me smile. She was one of only a handful of people in L.A. that I truly missed.

_"So, where are you right now? NO! Don't tell me! I don't want to know. That way if the paps try to torture it out of me, I won't be able to give them anything useful."_

"I'm at a resort outside of London, with a friend."

The phone went silent, making me think we'd been disconnected.

_"A friend as in Abby?"_

I grinned to myself. "That's the one. She flew over here to see me and we worked things out. She's staying until I leave."

_"That is really good news. You sound like you're very happy and I haven't seen your ugly mug anywhere in the rags, so I'm happy too. You're finally doing what you're told for once."_

"Yes, mother," I said sarcastically. "I'm keeping a very low profile, not that anyone in London gives a shit about Twilight or Robert Pattinson. It's no big deal over here."

_"Oh, but it will be, honey. Just wait and see."_

I rolled my eyes and wondered if Cathy and Bella had been talking behind my back, or perhaps they'd bought the same crystal ball at the dollar store.  "I really have to go unless there's something else?"

_"Well, Kristen called and wanted to know what you were up to. I professed complete ignorance. Has she called you? Her and Michael are on the outs again, or at least that's what I heard through the grapevine. I thought you should know."_

Oh hell. That was all I needed was Kristen ringing me up to cry on my shoulder. I hated to hear that she and Michael were fighting again, but frankly, I wanted to stay as far from that situation as I could, especially now that Bella and I were together.  "I haven't heard a word from her. Maybe she just wanted to talk about the script."

_"Uh huh…"_

Cathy sounded doubtful and she was probably right. "Listen, I really need to go. Tell everyone 'hey' for me."

We disconnected and then I made one last call to my agent, Stephenie. She had some scripts she wanted me to look at, and was going to send them to my apartment. Not that I'd have much time to look at them. I planned on spending as much quality time with Bella as I could before my life spiraled out of control again.

With all of the important calls and messages taken care of, I shut off my phone and stretched out on the sofa to wait for Bella. Not five minutes later, she strolled through the door looking suspiciously perky.

"Ready to go walk through the woods?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah, sure. Let's go."

I had to admit that despite the cold, the walk was nice. We were the only ones brave enough to venture out, so we held hands nearly the entire time. I managed to maneuver her up against a tree or two and sneak some kisses along the way. We meandered around the estate on the snow-covered trail for nearly two hours and by the time we made it back to the front of the hotel, our noses were red and we were tired, but invigorated at the same time. Back at the room, we tossed our coats across the chairs and plopped down on the sofa.

Bella sighed. "That was nice."

We stopped talking for awhile and just relaxed with our feet stretched out in each other's lap. I laid my head back on the arm and closed my eyes. It wouldn't have taken much for me to fall asleep, but Bella had other plans, apparently.

"Robert, would you consider yourself to be an open-minded person?"

I opened one eye and considered her question. "Yeah, I think I am. Why?"

"I mean,  _really_ open-minded, as in willing to try something totally new?"

"Yeah, I don't mind trying new stuff, unless it's something like parachuting out of a plane or something, where I'd probably end up getting my ass killed."

"Well good, because there's something else I'd like for my birthday."

My curiosity over what else she could possibly want had me sitting up with both eyes open. "What?"

"And it kind of costs a lot of money, which I don't like, but there's nothing I can do about that."

Now I was _really_ interested. What could possibly have gotten Bella to suddenly turn gold digger on me?

"It's something they offer here at the hotel," she said hesitantly.

"Am I going to have to come down there and tickle it out of you?" I asked. "What is it?"

"It sounds so romantic. I mean, you like romance, right? Everybody likes romance," she continued.

"Bella!" I practically growled at her. "What is it?"

"A couple's massage."

The room went quiet. _Oh shit._ Those big brown doe eyes of hers were fixed on my face waiting for a reaction. A massage? That meant both of us getting naked in front of a total stranger. Me in the same room with a naked Bella had the words 'massive erection' stamped all over it. How did you hide a boner from someone with just a flimsy towel over your dick?

"Uh, I don't know." She frowned at my hesitation. I guess I wasn't so open-minded after all.

"Robert, these are professionals who do these massages. It's not like a massage parlor where everyone gets a "happy ending" at the end of the hour. Massages help you relax, and with your job this would be perfect for you. It might help ease your anxiety," she explained.

The excitement in her voice and the sparkle in her eyes were unmistakable. I had a sudden vision of my naked ass laid out on a table with some hulking Swede feeling me up, because there was no way I could say no to those soft, pleading brown eyes.

"I read the brochure and asked a lot of questions about it. You don't have to be naked if you don't want. If you're uncomfortable, you can leave your boxers on. But, seriously Robert, you're going to be doing nude scenes when you get really successful, so just think of this as a trial run. I mean, you've already been naked in front of people before in _Little Ashes_ so I don't see what the big deal is. I'll be there right beside you, just as naked as you. The brochure says that—"

"Bella!" I interrupted her hard sell before she could quote me chapter and verse from the brochure. "I'll do it."   _Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?_

"You will?" she asked in disbelief.

I smiled. "Yeah, I will. But don't blame me if I embarrass us both. Big Ben doesn't always do what he's told." 

"They put a really thick towel over you. You'll be fine. No one will even notice your little boner."

"Little?" That did it. I pounced on her and tickled until she was squealing at the top of her lungs. Her shrieks of laughter echoed all through the suite, but I showed her no mercy until she took it back and substituted much nicer words in place of 'little'. I finally stopped when she got to 'ginormous'.

"So when is this supposed to take place?" I asked when we'd both gotten our breath back.

"In an hour," she answered, grimacing. "I sort of already made the reservations."

I poked her nose with my finger. "You, Isabella Abigail Anderson, are sneaky. That's the last time I'm letting you out of my sight for more than five minutes."

She smiled at me and stroked her fingers down the side of my face, and then ruffled my hair. The girl had my number. I'd never be able to refuse her anything.

\--------------------------------------

We started off with a ten minute steam shower, completely naked of course, but it's incredible how a 118˚ room can take a man's mind off of sex. There was muted lighting in the ceiling filtering in through the steam, and somehow they'd managed to include some kind of nice smell in with it, too. Bella informed me that the heat loosened up the muscles, cleansed the pores, and generally cleared the mind. By the time we got out, I was ready to go back to the room and crash, but Bella laughed and said this was just the beginning.

We were getting the "Sweet Suite Experience", according to her: two hours of private treatment, including the steam shower and a deep Thai Compress Massage, whatever the hell that was. I didn't ask too many questions. I'd decided early on to just go along with everything without complaint. This was Bella's birthday present, after all. I was determined that she enjoy it. After the steam shower, we were draped in thick bathrobes and led to a small room with two massage tables standing side-by-side. The lighting was dim, and scented candles were sitting everywhere.

Bella inhaled deeply and smiled. "It's lavender. I loooove lavender."

We were given two very large and very thick towels, which made me a very happy man. My dick would have to be a steel cannon to pitch a tent under one of those. The lady left the room while we situated ourselves on the tables. According to instructions, we were laid out opposite each other, so that our feet were at different ends of the tables and our faces were right next to each other.  After that, I died and went to Heaven.

A glass of champagne for each of us and a platter of fruit got us started and then two hours of complete bliss followed that. I never thought I'd enjoy a massage, but I was sold within the first five minutes. Our faces were inches apart and we held each other's eyes throughout the entire two hours. Occasionally one of us would close our eyes and moan softly, but we'd always find the other one's eyes again.  We didn't talk. Only once did I mouth the words 'I love you' to her, which made her smile in contentment. This was the best birthday present I'd ever bought for anyone. And not once did Big Ben misbehave. I was too relaxed to even think about sex, even with Bella lying naked next to me. I could see the curve of her breasts squashed out underneath her arms but it made no difference. My muscles were like wet noodles by the time we were through. I couldn't have gotten a hard-on if I'd tried. As far as de-stressing went, there was definitely something to this massage thing.

After our massage, we dragged ourselves through hallways on legs that felt like spaghetti and barely made it to the room before we collapsed. Our clothes landed haphazardly on chairs, the floor, half off the mattress, wherever. We dropped onto the bed and stretched out, both of us on our backs with eyes closed. My body was so relaxed that the pull of sleep was overpowering my desire to stay awake and talk to Bella.

"That was amazing," she said quietly without moving.

"Yeah," I agreed, which was all I could manage. Even my mouth was relaxed and forming words was proving difficult.

"You know what would feel really good right now?"

I opened one eye and cast a glance in her direction. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling. I turned my head back and shut my eyes and smiled too. "What?"

"Sex."

I thought about it. Yeah. Sex would feel pretty damned good.  "Yeah, it would," I agreed quietly.

We laid there for awhile, neither one of us making a move to get it started.

"So?" she asked. "Do you want to?"

"Yeah," I answered. Problem was, I couldn't move. My muscles weren't cooperating. I just wanted to lay there and let her fuck my brains out and then afterwards I could go to sleep. That sounded like a pretty good plan to me. "But I can't move. You'll have to come over here."

"No. You have to come over here," she insisted, but her voice wasn't very enthusiastic. "I can't move either."

"Let's just go to sleep," I suggested.

"Okay." She sighed and went quiet.

I smiled to myself and let my body and mind drift away.

\----------------------------------------------

Flashes were going off in my face. Screaming girls were everywhere, their piercing voices sucking the background noise out of my immediate surroundings like a black hole in outer space. I was disoriented, tired, and trying to keep it together. _Just another thirty minutes. Make it another thirty minutes, Rob and you can go home to where it's quiet._

**"ROB! I LOVE YOU!"**

**"ROB, TOUCH ME PLEASE!"**

**"ROB, YOU'RE SO AMAZING! I LOVE YOU!"**

**"ROB, CAN YOU SIGN THIS? CAN I HAVE A PICTURE OF YOU?"**

**"HERE'S MY PHONE NUMBER! CALL ME ANYTIME! WHAT'S YOUR ROOM NUMBER?"**

The screams were deafening, blending in together until they became just one huge cacophony of chaotic sound. Nothing they said made any sense. How could they love me? They didn't even know anything about me. I was a total stranger to these people, and did they seriously think I'd give out my hotel room number to just anybody?

Hands were all over me, touching me in places I didn't want to be touched, invading my private space and violating my sense of self. My PR people seemed unconcerned, but I was on the verge of cutting and running. What did these girls want from me? Instead of feeling flattered at their shouted professions of love, I felt helpless and inadequate. One person could never live up to this kind of fanatical adoration. It was impossible.

I scribbled my signature so many times that it no longer resembled my name. It was just a scratch of letters on a book, a tote bag, a diary, or someone's arm. Sometimes it felt like the same thing was happening to the man, Robert Pattinson. He was turning into something that didn't even resemble the original. Panic overtook me amid the screams as I realized the import of that thought. I was losing myself and I couldn't let that happen. If I was to survive this twisted turn my life had taken, I had to have some kind of safe foundation to fall back on.

That was when I saw her: my safe foundation.  Bella was in the crowd, like she'd promised me she would be. And like when I'd first met her, she was calm and smiling—my oasis in this sea of insanity. I smiled at her. She was so beautiful, and just the thought of her waiting for me back at my hotel tonight helped ease the panic that was trying to beat its way into my mind.

Suddenly, her eyes moved away from my face and focused on some point just over my shoulder. She started screaming someone's name and jumping up and down with the girls standing all around her.

**"PAUL! BACK HERE! I LOVED FAST AND FURIOUS! PAUL! TOUCH ME! I LOVE YOU, PAUL!"**

Shocked, I whipped around and saw Paul Walker standing just behind me, waving to the crowds and smiling. He looked completely comfortable, like he could do this in his sleep. The screams in the crowd shifted away from me to him. I would have been grateful, except for the fact that Bella had shifted her attention as well.  I ignored the tugging at my sleeve by my PR team and focused in on Bella. The world shrunk around me until it was just she and I inside a quiet bubble. The noise around us faded into the background until it was nothing but a soft hum.

"Bella, what's going on?"

Puzzled, she pulled her eyes away from Paul and reluctantly looked at me. "What are you talking about?"

"You're here to support _me_ not Paul Walker. What is this shit? You're supposed to be my number one fan girl, not some guy like Paul Walker who was in a stupid car chase movie, for shit's sake! What happened to Twilight? You LOVE Edward and you love ME!"

She laughed and waved her hand in the air like some snobby Hollywood rich bitch-the kind of woman I despised. "Twilight is sooo 1999," she drawled. "Paul Walker is the new up-and-coming actor around here now. He's going to be somebody someday, you just wait and see. Every one of your movies has sucked. You haven't made any decent money since New Moon tanked at the box office. I'm Paul's number one fan girl now. Sorry, that's how it rolls in Hollywood, honey. Go back to England and settle down with some nice British girl."

The bubble burst, and the chaos slammed back in, sucking the life out of me in seconds. My girl had turned her back on me, and all because I'd picked the wrong parts? It wasn't my fault that New Moon had tanked. They shouldn't have picked Chris Weitz to direct the damned thing, or maybe they should have fired Melissa Rosenberg's ass! Why the fuck was she blaming _me?_ What happened to 'I'm not with you because you're Robert Pattinson.'? What a load of shit that had been.  Dejected, I allowed myself to be pushed through the line to sign more autographs, leaving Bella behind to scream her head off at the latest pretty face on the scene.

Pretty soon, all of the shouts were for Paul, leaving me no choice but to crawl back into my limo in embarrassment. My driver sped away to the sounds of my life going down the shitter at supersonic speed.

_I'm Paul's number one fangirl now. Sorry…that's how it rolls in Hollywood, honey._

_I'm Paul's number one fangirl now. Sorry…that's how it rolls in Hollywood, honey._

Bella's voice echoed inside my head all the way back to my lonely hotel room.

\--------------------------------------

I awoke with a start to a pitch dark bedroom. My heart was beating so hard it felt like a bass drum in my chest. It took me a few moments to realize where I was, and relief washed over me when I saw Bella lying beside me, completely nude and fast asleep.  I'd been dreaming. No, scratch that. I'd had a fucking nightmare to end all nightmares.  My career in the tank? Bella turning away from me in disgust because of it? A fucking nightmare, but not beyond the realm of possibility. That sort of thing happened every day in the movie business.

Before I'd met Bella, I hadn't really taken the acting thing seriously. I'd taken whatever part I'd been offered. There'd been no pressure. No expectations. No suits looking down their noses at Robert Pattinson, the actor, and calculating the amount of his box office draw down to the penny. Nor had there been anyone in the picture—except for my family and a few close friends—who'd even given a shit what I did with my life. But Bella had changed all of that. My future was meshed with hers now, and I couldn't let her down, or myself, for that matter. I owed it to both of us to be the best actor I could be, and to hold on to the man I was and not turn into a shallow and self-idolizing person, like so many in the movie industry. She'd respect me for that, wouldn't she? If I didn't pick the right part, or if one of my movies was a flop, she wouldn't feel differently about me, would she?

In the dark of our hotel bedroom, I faced my insecurities. I wondered what all of those screaming fans would think if they knew that Robert Pattinson loved his new-found fame, but was also scared out of his fucking mind at the same time. Scared not because he might not be famous tomorrow, or next month or next year, but scared of letting down the important people in his life, like his parents and the beautiful girl who shared his bed.

She looked so peaceful lying there on her back fast asleep. The dim glow of a winter moon threw just enough light into the room through the bedroom window to let me see the silhouette of her sleeping form. She was beautiful. Blood rushed south. I wanted her, even if I had to wake her up from a deep sleep.

I nestled up against her side. "Bella," I whispered.

"Uhmm."

"Bella, wake up." I nuzzled into her hair and kissed my way up her neck to wake her up. She moaned and slowly opened her eyes.

"Robert?" She flicked her eyes around the room in surprise. "What time is it?"

"Late. Early. I have no idea," I whispered. "And I don't care."

Before she could answer, I covered her mouth with mine. I kissed her like this was to be the last kiss of our lives. A long and deep kiss mixed in with a little desperation. She must have sensed something different in me, because she pushed at me gently until I pulled away.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"I had a horrible dream. That massage did a number on my head or something." I chuckled nervously to hide how scared I truly was.

She pushed at my hair and frowned. "What was it about?"

It was starting to fade, but I told her all that I could remember. Spoken aloud, it sounded really stupid, which was how it always was with dreams. Bella reacted perfectly. She laughed.

"Paul Walker?" she said. "Ewwwwww." She wrinkled her nose like there was a bad smell in the room. "He's too 'Hollywood' to suit me. Yuck. I like my men mysterious and existential."

"Existential?"

"Yeah, existential, which describes Robert Pattinson to a tee. You're a mystery to a lot of people. You're very private, which just piques people's interest in you even more. And now that I'm getting to know you, I see that there's such depth to you. You read books about things that most people wouldn't care about unless forced to. You're just so…existential," she finished with a shrug and a smile. "You're just you."

"And you wouldn't feel any differently about me if New Moon tanked, or if my other films sucked ass?"

A look of pure horror crossed her face. "God, no. Why would you think that?" Then she laughed. "Of course, the not making any serious money part, that's something else entirely. You have to continue to support my gold digging in the manner to which I've become accustomed, or else I'm outta here." She sniffed like a rich snob and then we both broke out into laughter. "By the way," she added. "That massage was 370£. I had them put it on our bill."

"Well, it was worth every penny of that $600," I replied.

She shot up into a sitting position, her mouth dropped open in shock. "Six hundred dollars? For two hours?"

"Three hundred and seventy pounds is roughly six hundred American dollars. You knew that, right?" I had to laugh when she realized that she'd forgotten to make the conversion.

"Oh hell. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting I'm not in Kansas anymore."

I grinned. "God Dorothy, you're such a fucking gold digger."

She wrapped her arms around me and thanked me again for the birthday present, claiming it was almost as good as the New Moon script. Me and Big Ben were gearing up for some major action when she dropped her own bomb on me.

"I had a pretty bad dream myself this morning," she admitted.

Now it was her turn to lay all her insecurities out in plain view for me to see, and I was stunned at what they were. She was afraid that she wasn't good enough for me, just because she was a fan girl. She was afraid of what people would think when they found out I was dating an ordinary girl from Vancouver, Washington, instead of some Hollywood starlet or fashion model. And of course, the insecurity over Kristen was still lingering. No surprise there.

"Look at me, Bella. I'm a skinny-assed guy who happens to look good on camera. I dress like a slob and wear the same shoes every day. I watch movies for fun and excitement. I love my dog more than I love most people. I can get all funky with the best of the homeless guys when I set my mind to it. Before I met you, I could go days without shaving and showering if people would have just left me alone. I like to get shit-faced drunk on occasion. My idea of a shopping spree is to buy a new guitar and a pack of picks. Oh, and I'm a horny bastard in sloppy clothes, too. Don't forget that."

She was laughing by the time I got to the horny bastard part. "Well since you put it that way, maybe I should give Paul a second look."

I wrestled her to the bed and made her repeat after me that Paul was a pussy. She laughed and wriggled in my arms until she finally had to give in.

"Paul Walker is a pussy!" she yelped when my fingers started digging into her armpits.

I smiled and gathered her into my arms. Her heart pounded against my chest from our wrestling. "This fan girl stuff is silly. You were a fan girl at first, but now you're just Bella to me. When are you going to realize that I don't care about the same shit that everyone else does? I don't follow the Hollywood stereotype. I follow the Robert Pattinson way of doing things no matter what anyone else thinks, and Robert Pattinson wants Isabella Abigail Anderson as his girlfriend. Period."

"And if Robert Pattinson wants to do a completely suck-ass movie just because he likes the script then that's what he's going to do, even if no one goes to see it but us and it only makes $100," she added. "I'll get that new Dolce & Gabbana purse some other way."

"Gold digger," I snickered.

She giggled. "You know what? I think it's time to put Big Ben in the shop. He's running a little slow."

"You think?"

I leered at her and proceeded to show her that Big Ben was running pretty fucking fine, thank you very much.  Afterwards, we held hands in bed and shared an earbud from my iPod. Before I fell asleep again, I thought about insecurities.

They weren't all that bad when you shared them with someone you loved.

 

**THE GLASSHOUSE RESTAURANT AT THE GROVE**

**THE SPA ROOM AT THE GROVE**

 

 


	35. Simple Pleasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just what it says: simple pleasures. No drama, no angst, no crying, etc. Just an ordinary, uneventful day and night spent with a man who is far from ordinary—or at least that’s what the public thinks.

_**Saturday, January 10, 2009** _

**~ BELLA ~**

I woke up just as the sun was rising. Robert was stretched out on his side and facing me, the covers pushed down near his hips. The early morning light from the parted drapes cast a dim glow over his chiseled features and his bare chest. With one arm, he'd bunched his snow-white pillow up underneath his head. The other was draped loosely across his stomach. His hair was sticking out, and his jaw and neck were sprinkled with stubble. I'd never known anyone to look so beautiful while sleeping. The whole scene would have made an amazing photo spread.

Should I wake him? I could hear Jess's voice just as clear as if she was standing over our bed: _"Oooooh, if I got my hands on that guy he'd never get a wink of sleep. We'd be going at it like bunnies."_ I'd heard nothing but variations on that same theme every time she'd seen his picture on the Internet, or his face on the cover of a magazine. She was my friend and a hopeless airhead fan girl, but who was I to criticize? I was pretty sure that countless other girls, including me, had expressed the same sentiment ever since Twilight had thrust him into the public spotlight. Now that I found myself lying quietly on my side and staring at the most beautiful face on the planet, I didn't have the heart to wake him. This getaway was as much for him as it was for me. Very soon, his life was going to be unrecognizable as the chaos of New Moon began. As much as I wanted to kiss him awake, or snake my hand underneath the blanket covering his hips, I left him alone and just watched him sleep.  About an hour later, his eyes fluttered open, shut again, and then after a deep sigh, he opened them again and stared straight at me.

"What are you doing?" His voice was still heavy with sleep, but damn, if it wasn't just as sexy as his normal voice.

"Watching you sleep," I answered.

His thick brows bunched together in a deep frown. "That's weird. I hope I didn't do something embarrassing, like fart or something." He chuckled and stretched while I laughed at his silliness.

"You didn't, but I wouldn't have cared if you had," I shrugged and said after he'd settled comfortably back into place and resumed staring at me. Then this really mischievous look stole over his face, and I was pretty sure I recognized it. It was his let's-tease-Bella-look, and it usually had something to do with Edward.

"You ever wonder about Edward sitting in that rocker all night and watching Bella sleep?" he asked, grinning.

Yep. I'd been right. _Here it comes…_

"You know she had to have farted at least once. Wonder what Edward thought about that? And did he like the smell? I mean everything else about her smelled good, right?"

"Robert, ewww!" I smacked him on the shoulder. "That was a beautiful thing Edward did, and you're just making the whole thing gross!"

"Well?" He laughed and flinched away from my playful slaps. "I'm a guy. I think about stuff like that."

I glared at him. "Even if she _did_ fart, Edward would have been too much of a gentleman to say anything. HE has manners, unlike the man who plays him."

"Ouch. That hurt, Bella. That really hurt. I'm crushed. I'm devastated. How will I go on?" He clutched his hand to his heart and got this really dramatic wounded look on his face.

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. "You are such an actor. You deserve an Oscar for that one."

"Don't need an Oscar. I already have a golden statue," he said, leering at me and biting his lip. "Let me just make a quick trip to the bathroom and I'll show it to you." He scooted out of bed and headed to the door, my laughter following his sexy little naked butt out into the hallway. He sauntered back into the bedroom a few minutes later with his "golden statue" in hand.

"I kind of like that name," I mused.

"What?" His confusion at my seemingly random comment had me fighting to hold in my giggles.

"Oscar. I like that. I'm tired of Big Ben, so it's Oscar from now on," I stated with an emphatic nod.

He let go of "Oscar" and sat down on the bed beside me. The what-the-hell look on his face was priceless and I couldn't hold in my giggles any longer.

He laughed and pointed his long index finger at me, reminding me of my first grade teacher, except Robert had more hair and was a whole lot sexier. "You're sick." He chuckled. "I'm really beginning to wonder about you. This obsession you have with my dick is really strange. You know that, right?"

I swatted his finger away and laughed. "Every girl on the planet is obsessed with your dick, you big dummy!"

His face flushed a deep pink with embarrassment, which made my heart melt. The man truly had no clue and that just made him even sexier in everyone's eyes. I scooted over beside him and smothered his flaming cheeks in kisses.  "You are the sweetest man," I purred in his ear. "Come here."

We crawled back underneath the blankets and cuddled for a while longer. I noticed that Robert's joking good humor had evaporated after my comment, but I didn't know how to fix it. Luckily, he did it for me.

"You're exaggerating, right?" he asked hesitantly. "About the dick thing?"

"Well, all over the planet might be an exaggeration, but as to the other? No. I don't think that's an exaggeration," I said honestly. "You're a beautiful man in front of the camera and in person. I think it's natural for girls and women to fantasize about your body."

He frowned and dropped his eyes for a few moments. When he looked at me again I could tell that this conversation had moved from the humorous to the extremely serious.

"Do you think that my looks are all they care about?" he asked, his eyes carefully watching mine for a reaction.

I sensed that he wanted nothing from me but complete honesty, so I gave it to him. "I think for a lot of your fans, especially the younger ones, your looks and the fact that you brought Edward to life are all that matters. But your true fans appreciate you for more than just that, and they're the ones who will stick with you your entire career."

He reached for my hand and threaded his fingers in with mine. "Want to know something that only my family and friends know?" He paused. "I hate the photo shoots and the photo calls. I really don't like posing for photographers. I have one leg that's longer than the other, and it just makes me look awkward." He chuckled in discomfort and shrugged his free shoulder. "If I had to model for a living, I'd go completely insane." He sighed. "I don't want to be known just for my looks. That's so superficial."

I smiled and let loose of his hand so I could rifle his hair with my fingers. "First off, I've never seen an awkward picture of you except maybe when you're walking or talking and they catch you unawares, but the ones you've done with professional photographers are just beautiful. Don't be so hard on yourself. You have looks so use them. Just think of them as the tools of your trade."

"I don't know. The whole thing is just weird." He tugged at my hand and brought my fingers down to his lips, kissed them tenderly and then threaded his fingers in with mine again. "You'd think it would be every guy's dream to be idolized by thousands of girls, but it's not. It's really strange. At least to me it is. I don't quite know how to deal with it, to be honest."

"I think you just have to accept that part of it and keep your focus on what's really important: your work." I stroked a finger down his cheek and across his stubbled chin. "Pick good projects that interest you and work really hard. You can't go wrong by doing that, at least that's what I hear from my parents all the time."

"Yeah, parents are smart that way."

"So, I take it you don't like 'Oscar'?" I asked, trying to bring a little brevity back into the conversation.

To my relief, he laughed. "I kind of like it, actually. 'Oscar' reminds me of Broadway for some reason. I'm seeing a dick in a tux with tails, a black top hat and cane and a tiny little black moustache, dancing across the stage."

The image he described made us both break out in giggles. I loved it when Robert giggled.

"Not me. I'm seeing a sleek, hard golden statue standing tall and proud in the glow of a Hollywood spotlight," I said with dramatic flair.

He snickered and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I've got one of those. Want me to put it on your mantle?"

I smiled my best slutty smile. "Oh yeah."

He grinned and rolled on top of me.

\---------------------------------------

"What do you want to do today?" he asked.

We were cuddled up close underneath the blankets, warm and relaxed after our playful and giggly love-making session.

"Mmm, I don't know," I murmured. Personally, I was completely happy doing exactly what I was doing.

He brushed his fingers against my cheek, and then tenderly pushed back a tendril of hair from my face. "We could take a taxi back into London, go shopping and buy a bunch of junk we don't need, then buy some disposable cameras and do the tourist thing. Or we could go swimming in the pool downstairs. Or we could get another massage—"

"Stop," I ordered softly and then proceeded to shoot down every one of his suggestions. "First off, shopping isn't really my thing, and I'd like to do the tourist thing eventually, just not today. And I didn't bring a bathing suit. Did you?"

He chuckled quietly and shook his head. "Didn't think about that, but this is our last day here. We should do something."

I knew it was selfish of me, but I didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't want to share him with anyone. That would come soon enough when he started filming New Moon. I wanted him all to myself, so I offered an alternative.

"I have an idea. Let's get room service, fire up that humongous flat screen on that wall over there, and watch old movies all day long. If we get sleepy, we'll take a nap. Hungry? We'll order some more room service. And if we want to…." I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. "…then we can do that, too."

His smile faded, replaced by a look of complete astonishment. "Really? That's what you really want to do?"

I nodded.

His knotted brows smoothed and his sweet smile reappeared. "You have no idea how incredibly perfect that sounds to me."

He gathered me into his arms and smothered my face and neck in kisses. Amid my giggles and protests over his scratchy stubble, I was smiling inside, beaming actually. This was a man who enjoyed the simple pleasures in life just like me. We were perfect for each other.

\----------------------------------------

"Woah, woah, woah! Back up! _Back up!"_

Robert shot up straight, nearly dumping his egg-white omelet all over the bed. I'd been flipping through the channels searching for the perfect movie when he'd suddenly gone crazy.

"What?" I flipped back through the channels to the sound of his constant 'No, not that one!' until I finally located the source of his excitement:  _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ starring Jack Nicholson. He settled back into the blankets, sat his half-eaten omelet on the night stand and focused on the television screen.

"This is one of the best films ever," he said, his voice taking on the hushed tones of a devoted worshipper. "It won all five major Academy Awards that year: Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Actress, Director and Screenplay. Jack Nicholson was incredible in this. The man is amazing."

I watched his face as he talked, and smiled at what I saw. Robert was having a fan girl moment and he didn't even realize it.

"Have you met him?"

He shot me a scared look and barked a laugh. "Hell no. God, I'd shit my pants if I ever found myself in the same room with Jack Nicholson. I wouldn't even know what to say to the man. What would I say? 'Hello, I play a vampire that sparkles and I idolize you. Maybe we could do a film together?' The guy would laugh me out of the room."

I couldn't help it. I laughed my ass off at him, and his confused look made me laugh even more.

"What?"

"You're a hopeless fan girl," I answered with a giggle. "Now you know how all those Twi-hards feel about _you."_

He stared back at me, suddenly very thoughtful. "You're right. It's the same thing, isn't it, except for the fact that I'm not obsessed with the man's dick, just his acting skills. But still, I get what you're saying. I never really looked at it that way."

I'd meant to tease him, but he'd taken my remark to heart, analyzing it and drawing conclusions that applied to his life. Robert was so unpredictable at times, one moment light-hearted and giggly, the next serious and introspective. He was such a complex man, and I loved watching those complexities play out before my eyes.

"They feel the same way about me," he mused softly. Then he glanced my way and grinned, the seriousness of before suddenly gone. "Did you nearly shit your pants when you saw me at that premiere?"

"Oh hell yes," I answered quietly. "It was a defining moment in my life."

His mischievous grin transformed instantly into a loving smile. "It was a defining moment in my life, too."

Breakfast was forgotten. Jack Nicholson fought his ongoing battle of wills with Nurse Ratched without an audience as Robert and I submerged beneath the blankets once again for some heavy cuddling.

\--------------------------------------

_**Saturday afternoon** _

"We... thought... you… was... a... toad."

Robert howled with laughter as the plot of _Oh Brother, Where Art Thou_ unfolded on the screen. He'd never seen it and it was one of my favorites, so I'd insisted. Robert had been skeptical at first, but had ended up laughing through nearly the whole thing.

"That is the craziest movie I've seen in a while," he commented after it was over. "I would love to do a film set in the 1930s like that one. It seemed like such a great time to be alive in America."

He never ceased to surprise me. I would have never imagined him to be a man interested in Depression-era America.

"I keep watching for a good 1930s script, but most of the ones I get are rubbish." He sighed. "Maybe one of these days…"

"You know, Toni Morrison once said a very profound thing: 'If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.' The same thing would apply to scripts, wouldn't you think?"

He stared back at me in silence, and I could almost see his creative wheels turning inside his mind.  "Yes, it would," he agreed softly. "I'll keep that in mind."

\-----------------------------------------

 _Saturday evening_  


Robert groaned. "Damn, I need a cheeseburger. I wish there was an In-N-Out in this place."

I was propped up against the headboard, the New Moon script opened up on my lap. We'd been messing around with it the past hour. A movie was playing on the television, but we'd muted the sound a long time ago.

I chuckled. "In and out? That sounds dirty."

"Geez, Bella.  Is sex all you think about? It's not dirty, it's a burger place. I need a damned cheeseburger!"

"You know you can't have a cheeseburger," I stated matter-of-factly and then returned my attention back to the script.

"But, I neeeeed a cheeseburger," he repeated in his most pitiful voice. "You don't understand. It's been a whole week since I've had a cheeseburger. It's killing me."

I sighed, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to drop it. "That will blow your low-fat diet all to hell. Your personal trainer will smell the saturated fats on you a mile away."

"Shit," he cursed under his breath.

This strict diet and weight training for New Moon had to suck. I knew he hated it, and felt really sorry for him, so I offered what I thought was a pretty good alternative.  "How about if I order myself a cheeseburger and let you have a couple of bites? That might satisfy your craving."

"No, that won't work. I'd just take it away from you and eat the whole thing," he said with a defeated sigh.

I chuckled. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would."

"Nooo, you wouldn't," I insisted in my stubborn voice that said 'Don't argue with me, I'm right.'

"Yeesss, I _would,_ " he insisted in his equally stubborn voice.

"You and whose army?" I challenged.

"I don't need an army." He snickered, stared deep into my eyes, and played his trump card: his really thick British accent. "I need a cheeseburger, Bella," he said softly, his voice as smooth and sensuous as satin against the skin. "Please?"

"Stop that," I snapped.

"Stop what?" he asked, his expression completely innocent.

"You know what, and it's not working, so just stop," I said, with just a hint of a smile playing along my lips.

His face fell. "It's not working? Really?" he asked in disbelief.

"Nope. I'm immune now to that smoldering shit and that accent of yours, so don't even try it, buster." Then I burst out in laughter, set the script aside on the bed, and piled on top of him, smothering him in kisses.

"Oh, I think it worked just fine," he said, laughing. "I'll take you over a cheeseburger any day."

"You are such a player!" I smacked him playfully in the chest and then smothered him in more kisses. We laughed and rolled around on the bed, not paying attention to what we were doing. Next thing we knew, Robert was hanging off the edge, yelling that he was about to fall just seconds before he rolled off onto the floor, taking me with him in a pile of blankets.

"Robert!" I shrieked, laughing and trying to get myself untangled from his legs and the covers.

All that wiggling and rubbing our hips together caused a commotion on Broadway. The curtains parted and Oscar pranced onto the stage, standing tall and proud and ready to perform.

"Mmmmm," I murmured against Robert's lips. "Can you believe that Oscar's up for another performance already?"

He grinned that sexy crooked grin of his that drenched panties all over the world on a regular basis. "He's a real 'stand-up' guy, that one."

"Oh my yes," I agreed. "And he has a LONG career aHEAD of him."

"For years to COME," Robert added.

We giggled at the sexual puns flying back and forth between us, but those giggles soon turned to moans as Oscar found his mark and plunged deep into his performance. And what a performance it was…

 

\-------------------------------------------

_**Late Saturday night** _

"What's the name of that song?"

I was sitting beside him at the piano, watching his fingers glide over the keys and summon from them a beautiful and complex melody. I envied people with musical talent. I was sure I could learn to play if I applied myself, but what Robert had was more than taking lessons and hours of practice. He heard the music from somewhere deep inside of him, and let it pour out through his hands and into whatever instrument he was playing at the moment.

He shrugged and continued playing. "It doesn't have a name. It's just something I made up. I like the sound of it. Do you?"

"Yes," I said quietly. It was a haunting song, the type that tugged at the hem of my creative coat like an impatient child wanting his mother's attention. Plot lines and characters swam around in my head. There was sadness in this song. Lost love. Pain. Longing.

"I could so write a story to this song. It's beautiful."

He stopped playing and turned to face me. "Then do it. You haven't written a thing since you've been here."

"I will when we get back to Soho," I promised him. It wasn't going to be a hard promise to keep, because this man gazing into my eyes was my inspiration, his music was my soundtrack, his life was my happily-ever-after.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 **Sunday morning**  


"It's 2 AM. You should be in bed."

I'd awoke to find his side of the bed cold and empty. A frigid draft in the room helped me locate him. He'd gone out onto the balcony in his pajama bottoms and coat to smoke, and had left a crack in the French doors. I slid on my jeans and slipped on my coat, not bothering to put on a shirt, and joined him.

"Can't sleep," he said, puffing on his cigarette and gazing out into the dark night.

"Do you want to be alone?"

He shook his head. "No, not at all."

I snuggled against him and smiled when he snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me even closer to him.  I stared out into the blackness and kept silent. Robert was in a pensive mood and I didn't want to mess it up with useless chatter. So we stood in the cold, drawing warmth from each other's bodies, and said nothing while he smoked.  Finally, he stubbed his cigarette out on the balcony railing, flicked it out into the darkness and turned to me.

"These past few days have meant a lot to me. I just wanted you to know that."

"They've meant a lot to me, too," I agreed. "It's been really nice having you all to myself."

He sighed. "Exactly. But, that's not going to last. Starting next month, things are going to get pretty bizarre, what with dress rehearsals, all-night shoots, the press, the constant scrutiny…"

"I understand," I assured him. "I know it's going to be rough, but we'll be all right."

"We have to make time for each other," he continued, as if I'd not even spoke. "Time like this."

"I agree, and we will," I insisted.

He pulled me close and kissed me tenderly on the forehead. His cold hands slid underneath my coat and found a warm home against my sides.

"I can be an ass sometimes," he said, finding my eyes and holding them. "Especially when I'm stressed and tired and trying to memorize pages of dialogue for the next day's shoot."

I smiled up at him and palmed his cheek. "We all have an inner ass. Not just you."

"I know," he said, acknowledging my smile with one of his own. "But when I get like that, I just want you to know that it's not your fault. It's just me and how I deal. It's nothing personal." He laughed suddenly. "Sam says I'm like a mother bear on the rag when I get like that. Crude, but an accurate description."

I raised my eyebrows and grinned. "Well, if that's the case, then thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to avoid you when you're menstruating."

He chuckled and pulled me against him. When he realized I didn't have a shirt on underneath my coat, his hands climbed higher until they found my breasts. "Jesus, Bella," he moaned softly into my hair. "You're driving me insane."

"Same here," I gasped as his fingers toyed with my hardening nipples.

"I can't believe that I want you again," he said in astonishment. "How many times will that make us today?"

"Ummm, three and a half, if you count the one during Cuckoo's Nest," I answered and then ground my hips against his.

"I think that's a record for me, even with the half," he said, grinning.

I giggled. "Definitely for me."

Our lovemaking was tender, slow and quiet, nothing like our playful tumbles of before. Robert hovered over me and watched my face as he pushed in and out of me. The muscles in his shoulders and arms knotted and then relaxed over and over again as he moved. His eyes periodically drifted shut and then slid back open, his soft deep-throated moans were like music to my ears. He was a beautiful and sensuous god in my eyes, and he would have blushed furiously if he knew how I felt. So I kept those feelings to myself, and instead let my own soft sighs and whimpers speak to him in that language that all men understood. He was fulfilling me, giving me everything I needed and wanted in a man, and I let him know with my mouth, my hands, my eyes, and my body.

Our ending was intense, him first and then me, his twitches of completion inside of me sending me over the edge. He continued to move long after it was over, whispering his love to me, kissing my mouth, my face, my hair, my neck. His back was slick with the sweat of exertion, his hair damp, but I didn't care. I pulled him down against my body despite his protests that he was too heavy, and held him.

I now knew what was going on with him and why he couldn't sleep. The conversation on the balcony, along with his intense and passionate lovemaking afterwards had made it all clear to me. He was worried about us, about the future and the chaos that would soon surround him. Things were easy now, but wouldn't be so easy later. I shared his worry, but decided to keep that fact to myself and instead be supportive and encouraging. We spooned our bodies together and held each other close.

"When my life sucks ass, I'm going to remember this day," he whispered into my ear.

"Me too," I whispered back.

We said nothing more. He fell asleep first. Once I heard his regular breathing, I relaxed and fell into a deep sleep of my own. 

 


	36. Meet the Pattinsons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert’s friends mentioned in this chapter: Sam Bradley, Tom Sturridge, Bobby Long, Marcus Foster and Eddie Redmayne. 
> 
> British slang used in this chapter: 
> 
> Cheeky - Cheeky means you are flippant, have too much lip or are a bit of a smart arse! Generally you are considered to be a bit cheeky if you have an answer for everything and always have the last word.  
> Knob - a man’s penis  
> Mutt’s nuts – fantastic or excellent  
> Smashing – terrific  
> Starkers – stark naked
> 
> INTERESTING QUOTE: 
> 
> “I’m pretty normal. I can be quite geeky. I wear the same thing every day -- I don’t know how to use a washing machine.” ~ Robert Pattinson

\-------------------------------------

_**Sunday afternoon, January 11, 2009** _

**~ ROB ~**

"Home Sweet Matchbox Home," I announced as we dragged our two suitcases in the door and deposited them in the hallway.

Bella laughed. "Don't make fun of this place. It's our little Soho love nest." She hung her jacket by the door and pried her sneakers off her feet.

Soho love nest? I rolled my eyes while her back was turned. It was a tiny apartment with absolutely no luxuries. Its sole purpose had been to give me some breathing room after the press junket, somewhere to run around starkers and get drunk in privacy without cameras around. I was already missing the huge bathtub and the baby grand at The Grove, and I hadn't been here two minutes.

I slid my arms around her waist, meaning to do a little vertical snogging when she wriggled out of my arms. "Gosh, my stomach is killing me," she groaned. "Be right back." She darted down the short hallway. "Why don't you go ahead and start the laundry?" she suggested over her shoulder as she shut the door to the bathroom.

I looked down at the two suitcases. "Bella!" I yelled down the hallway. "I don't know the first thing about laundry!"

She yelled back through the closed door. "It's not rocket science! You just separate the clothes and then choose the water temperature!"

"'It's not rocket science'," I muttered under my breath. "Right."

Then I got to thinking. I was a smart guy. My sisters could do laundry and my mum was an expert at it. Hell, I'd even seen Dad do it from time-to-time. I should be able to figure this out, right? Didn't want Bella to think I was a complete idiot.

I dug the clothes out of both suitcases and made two piles in the hall floor: mine and hers. Then I decided to conserve water and scooped them into one big pile. Gotta save the planet and all that environmental shit. I gathered them up in my arms and headed to the washing machine. Raised the lid, stuffed them in good and tight. _Yes! They all fit!_ There were some directions on the inside of the lid about adding detergent. Did that _. Uh huh, I can read and follow directions._ Then I shut the lid and looked at the dials.

Cottons. Cotton Stains. Easy Care. Delicate/Silk. Wool. Sportwear. Sensitive. Sensitive? What? Do my clothes cry when they get dirty? I snickered aloud at my own joke, and then looked at the rest of the choices. Dark Wash. SuperQuick. Mixed Load…

 _Mixed load. Yeah, that's what I have—mine and Bella's clothes all mixed together._ So I turned the dial and heard the satisfying sound of water pouring into the machine. _I guess it chooses the temperature automatically?_ I shrugged and walked away, feeling really proud of myself. Now I could safely say in future interviews that I had conquered the washing machine and could finally launder my own clothes. _Yes! Robert Pattinson has evolved!_

I stretched out on the bed and waited for her. She finally made it into the bedroom, her hand on her stomach and an unpleasant look on her face.

"You all right?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"Ugh," she answered, moaning. "Something I ate did not agree with me." She dropped onto the bed and snuggled up against me. "Did you get the laundry started?"

"Oh yeah, I figured it out. It's not like it's rocket science or anything," I said in the smug voice of someone who had met a challenge head-on and then overcame it with their superior intellect.

"Good, because I don't feel like dealing with it." She sighed. "I think I'm going to just lay here for awhile, if you don't mind."

\--------------------------------------

**~ BELLA ~**

I drifted awake to a dead quiet apartment, glanced at the clock and realized I'd napped for nearly two hours. My stomach felt like it was back to normal—no gurgling—so I scooted off the bed and went in search of Robert. I found him in the living room, sprawled out on the sofa with his long legs propped up on the coffee table. His feet poked out of the bottoms of gray sweats and I noticed that one of his socks had a huge hole in the toe to match the one in the front of his t-shirt, right above the Courier Scum logo. The New Moon script was open on his lap. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, but jiggled every now and then as he whispered aloud to himself.

"Whatcha doing?"

He jumped at the sound of my voice, yanked out the cigarette and stubbed it into the ashtray. "Hey, are you feeling better?"

I nodded and plopped down into the chair facing him. "So, are you and Edward hanging out?" I asked, smirking.

He snorted and gave me a mildly amused frown. "Yes, and the guy is depressing the hell out of me." He tossed the script on the coffee table. "Do you feel like going out?"

"Sure." I felt pretty good, and was ready for anything. "What do you have in mind?"

He pulled his legs from the table and sat up, raising his arms over his head and stretching. "My mum called. She's cooking dinner this evening and wants us to come over. They want to meet you."

Oh no. Meet-the-parents night had finally arrived. _Might as well suck it up and get it over with, Abby._

"That's sounds nice. I'm up for it," I said, putting on my brave smile and wondering what in the hell I should wear. "Did you put the clothes in the dryer?"

"Uh…" He sighed. Shifted his eyes away from mine. Ran his fingers through his hair.

_Uh oh._

"Well, no. I didn't," he admitted, still not looking at me. "I think I might have done something wrong." Finally he got the courage to look me straight in the eye and grimace. "You know my red 'Not Your Average Horse Show' t-shirt? Yeah, well it's not as red as it used to be, and your white Aeropostale shirt is pink."

"Robert!" I growled at him and shot up out of the chair, rushing out of the room to the washing machine. "You washed everything together and in hot water? I told you to separate them and choose the water temperature!"

He finally sidled up next to me at the washing machine, eyes still downcast and sighing. "I told you I didn't know anything about laundry. You should have listened or at least gave better instructions."

"That was my favorite shirt," I whined, and then I spied his gray vodka shirt on top of the wet clothes, looking as good as new. "And of course that ratty vodka thing looks perfectly fine!"

He chuckled. "Yeah, that thing's indestructible." His grin faded when he realized I wasn't laughing. "Hey, I really am sorry, but I had good intentions. That counts for something, right?"

My irritation at him for ruining my favorite shirt disappeared in an instant. He looked so sweet and apologetic as he stared down at me with his soulful eyes. He reminded me of a little puppy who knew he shouldn't have dribbled on the rug. And he was right, I should have given him better instructions.

"I know you don't like to shop, but since I ruined everything, let's just go out tomorrow and buy all new stuff, whatever you want, no matter how much it costs. How's that sound?"

This man was just too sweet for words. So I didn't give him any. Instead, I showed him that he was forgiven.

\-----------------------------------------

"My goodness, Lizzie wasn't exaggerating. You're stunning, and so very tiny!" Ms. Pattinson smiled warmly and gathered me into her arms. The Andersons weren't "huggers", but I found that I rather liked being greeted so enthusiastically.

I felt the heat of a blush as she released me. "Thank you, Mrs. Pattinson."

"Oh, no. No 'Mrs. Pattinson or Mr. Pattinson'. We're Clare and Richard," she scolded me sweetly.

Robert's dad moved in as soon as Clare took a step back, and I was enveloped in yet another warm hug. "We've heard quite a bit about you. All good." Richard smiled and winked, and then both of them hugged Robert.

Lizzie and another blonde, who was introduced as Robert's sister Victoria, enveloped me in yet another round of hugs. Then Clare announced that dinner was ready. Robert leaned in closer as we made our way down the hall. "Sorry about that," he said quietly. "But us Pattinsons hug a lot." He grinned and pecked me on the forehead.

Dinner was lovely and consisted of a Sunday Roast and vegetables. Robert informed me that they hardly ever ate the traditional Sunday meal anymore, only on special occasions. "And me bringing home a girl is definitely a special occasion," he added with a smile.

Everyone was so polite, certainly different than Dinner-at-the-Andersons. I freely answered questions about my life back in Vancouver as well as my plans for the future. Robert squeezed my leg underneath the table when I answered, "Wherever Robert goes, I go."

"Your shirt is smashing. I don't think I've ever seen one like it here," Lizzie commented out of the blue. She was sweet to say it was smashing, but we all knew she was only being polite. I'd been forced to wear my green Plankton t-shirt, from the cartoon show _Spongebob Squarepants_ , that said "I will rule the world!" on the front. It was one of my favorites, but it certainly wasn't appropriate attire for meeting your boyfriend's parents.

Robert rolled his eyes and sighed when I glared at him. "It was the only thing I had to wear, because somebody washed all of our clothes together in hot water."

Everyone around the table tittered, but it was Victoria who burst out into raucous laughter. "Oh my good God! Please tell me you did not let Robbie near a washing machine?"

Robert slumped back in his chair and sighed again.

"The boy is inept," Lizzie explained, looking at me across the table. "It took us forever to teach him how to use his own knob."

"Lizzie!" Clare exclaimed in shock. She shot a glare down the table to where Victoria and Lizzie were desperately trying to hold in their laughter, but I could tell she was trying just as hard not to join them. Richard was frowning.

"I knew enough about my knob to aim it and piss on your favorite teddy bear," Robert barked across the table and then smirked.

_Now this sounds more like Dinner-at-the-Andersons._

"Not at the table," Richard commanded gruffly. The good-natured sniping immediately stopped. Mr. Pattinson's word was apparently the last one in this house. He rose from the table, announcing he was going to retire to the living room and watch television, but as he left, he gave me the briefest grin, his eyes sparkling with good humor, and said, "I can't believe you let him near a washing machine."

After Richard left the room, Robert huffed and got up from the table. "I'm going to go talk to Dad for awhile."

\------------------------------------

"So, have you met his mates yet?" Vicky asked.

The three of us—me, Lizzie, and Vicky—were sprawled out on the bed in Lizzie's old bedroom, chatting like we'd been best friends all our lives. Robert was downstairs in the living room with his mom and dad.

"Not yet." They exchanged glances, rolled their eyes and then laughed. "Are they that bad?" I asked, feeling a little uneasy.

"Oh, no. They're all dear boys," Vicky said with an unconcerned wave of her hand.

"Talented as hell, the lot of them," Lizzie added. She should know as she was a talented singer/songwriter in her own right.

"And very sweet if you talk to them alone," Vicky assured me, nodding.

"But, they can be a bit..." Lizzie hesitated, and then continued, "…cheeky, and right full of themselves when they're all together in one room."

"Cheeky?" The term was unfamiliar to me.

"Smart-arsed, or maybe cocky is the better word," Lizzie answered, grinning. "But, like I said, they're all good boys. A little rowdy at times, but still, they've all been good friends to Robbie."

"The only one I know much about is Sam," I told them and then blushed. "I'm a bit of a fan girl where he's concerned. I adore his music. I can't wait to meet him."

"Oh hell." Lizzie laughed. "Sam thinks he is just the Mutt's nuts. He's what you Americans call a player. He juggles girls like he's with the circus. But, he's funny, and his voice gives me chills when he sings. You can't help but like him."

Vicky took over. "Tom is the partier. He likes to get everyone together at his house and throw these wild all-nighters. He's all about acting, girls, and pints, not necessarily in that order. And Marcus is quieter, very serious about his music, a very private person, that one. I often wonder how he ended up being friends with that bunch of ruffians."

"Then there's Bobby. The cheekiest of the lot, but the man is one hell of a lyricist," Lizzie said, and there was no mistaking the admiration I heard in her voice. "And finally, there's Eddie the Model, which is what Robbie jokingly calls him. Eddie would rather act, but takes on modeling jobs in between roles to pay the bills. Robbie likes to tease him about it."

They both hesitated and exchanged glances again. I felt like there was something else they wanted to say, but were unsure how to go about it, so I asked. "What?" I asked, looking back and forth between them. "Come on, guys. Tell me."

"They're very close, Abby," Vicky said. "I mean,  _very_ close. It's almost like they have this weird incestuous relationship or something." When I raised my eyebrows in shock, she hastily added, "Oh no, not incestuous in a sexual way, I didn't mean that. It's just that they're very close knit—all of them."

I wasn't sure what Vicky was getting at, and my expression must have showed it because Lizzie stepped in and laid it on the line for me.

"There isn't a girl on this planet who can split these boys up," Lizzie explained, her voice suddenly serious. "One of Robbie's old girlfriends tried it, and she found herself tossed out on her arse. Same with the rest of them. If one of their girlfriends gets too whiny about it, she's gone. Vicky and I think you're really good for Robbie—a hell of a lot better than Kristen—so we're giving you this advice because we want you to stick around for awhile."

"And what advice is that?" I asked quietly.

"Do not try to keep Robbie from spending time with his friends. It'll only backfire on you."

Vicky and Lizzie left not long after that, both pleading long days tomorrow. I went downstairs and joined Robert and his parents in the living room.

\-----------------------------------

"Why don't we have a bit of tea?" Clare asked, directing her question to me. "You do like tea, don't you Abby?"

I noticed Robert and his father exchange quick glances at her request. Wonder what that is about?

"I love tea," I answered. I looked over at Robert, offering a silent invitation to join us, but he just smiled and shook his head.

"You two go on. I'm going to hang out with Dad."

Clare and I withdrew to the quiet kitchen. The light over the stove was the only illumination in the room. She put a teapot of water on to boil and then joined me, me on one side of the table and her on the other. I wasn't quite sure how to start a conversation, but luckily I didn't have to. Clare started it for me.

"So, you turn eighteen and then fly across the Atlantic all by yourself to visit my son," she said quietly, and although her expression was as polite and pleasant as could be, I couldn't help but feel she disapproved, just a little. "Your parents must have wanted to choke you. I know I would have, if I'd been in their shoes." She added a quiet laugh at the end, which took a little bit of the edge from her words.

"They weren't exactly happy about it," I acknowledged, meeting her eyes and then looking away as I remembered the scene that day in our living room: 

 

_"I'm flying to London tomorrow morning, to visit a friend."_

_Of course, my Dad's face turned beet red and his lips pressed together in a tight, hard line. "Like hell you are." My dad was a man of few words, and the ones he did say, he always meant._

_I looked over at Mom and she was giving me this strange look. She was the smart one of the two. She was already putting two and two together even as I spoke my next sentence._

_"I'm old enough, and very responsible." I was careful to be as respectful as possible. Throwing an I'm-Eighteen-And-You-Can't-Tell-Me-What-To-Do tantrum wouldn't work, especially with my father._

_"I don't care how old or responsible you are, you don't need to be traipsing around in a big city like that all by yourself," Dad said in that superior voice all parents got when they were trying to completely ruin your life._

_"Dad, kids backpack all over Europe after graduation all the time. It's no big deal," I reasoned, which was true, just not in Vancouver. I didn't personally know any of these "backpacking kids", but I was sure they existed._

_But, as always, my mother was ten steps ahead of my dad. "Who is this friend?"_

_There was no need to beat around the bush, and I certainly wasn't going to lie, even though this was going to be extremely awkward. "Robert Pattinson."_

_Two things happened at once: my dad's face turned even redder, and he blurted out, "Robert Pattinson!" at the same time that my mother's mouth almost literally dropped to the floor. "That skinny little weirdo with the goofy looking hair that your mother thinks is a Greek god?" my dad sputtered in utter shock._

_Oooh, my dad made me so mad sometimes with his judgments of people. Yes, Robert was skinny but his hair was sexy as hell, and OMG yes, he was definitely a Greek god, but he absolutely was NOT weird._

_"That's the one," I said, still trying to show my dad some respect. "I have reservations. He sent me a prepaid ticket and I'm using it before it expires."_

_Dad shot up out of the chair and stalked out of the room, which left my mom, who was staring at me with suspicion._

_"Did you meet a boy while you were down there in Los Angeles?" she asked, her eyes narrowing._

_"Yeah, I did, Mom. Robert Pattinson."_

_Me and my mom were pretty tight and I could tell she thought I was lying, but I could also tell that she was on my side in this, for some strange reason._

_"I'll talk to your father."_

"I don't think my mom really believed I was going to visit Robert Pattinson until she actually talked to him on the phone," I admitted with a chuckle.

The teapot whistled that the water was ready. Our conversation ground to a halt while Clare prepared two cups of tea. When she was once again settled in across the table from me, and we both had our hands nestled around the warm porcelain teacups, she continued where we'd left off.

"Are you parents all right with this now?" Clare asked.

I wasn't sure how my dad felt, but mom?  "My mom likes Robert. Trust me, she's fine with it."

She caught the gleam of amusement in my eye and frowned. "What do you mean?"

I laughed at the thought of my mom drooling over Robert's pictures on the internet, and frankly was embarrassed to tell anyone how many times she'd seen Twilight. "She's a cougar."

"Cougar?" Clare's eyebrows raised in question. "I'm not familiar with that term, other than the animal, of course, and I'm pretty sure we're not talking about that."

"A cougar is an older woman who likes younger men," I explained. "In a nutshell, my mother thinks Robert is the sexiest man alive."

Clare's mouth dropped, just a little, and then her hand shot up to cover it. Her eyes danced with the laughter she was trying to hold in. I laughed when a giggle or two actually escaped from behind her hand.

"Oh my." She chuckled. "I would love to be there when Robbie and your mother meet. You have to let me know how that goes."

"I will," I said, laughing.

We sipped our tea for awhile in silence. I felt really comfortable with her, like I'd known her a lot longer than the few hours we'd spent together. She was easy to talk to, and I found myself telling her all sorts of silly things about myself. She in turn dropped some interesting tidbits about our innocent little Robbie, which made us both laugh.

"You must care for him a great deal," she said, suddenly serious. "Especially after what he did. It's not easy forgiving a betrayal like that."

I wondered how she'd found out—if Robert had told her, or one of his sisters—not that it mattered. They would have found out eventually.

"No, it's not easy," I agreed. "But I think Robert was sincere when he asked for a second chance. I believe that he regrets what happened."

Clare sighed and pushed her empty teacup away. "I usually don't interfere in my children's' lives, but I'd like to offer you a bit of advice, if you wouldn't mind."

It seemed everyone had advice to hand out to me tonight. "Of course."

She dropped her voice. "Robbie was infatuated with Kristen a long time before he met her. I'm not sure why, whether it was her acting ability or her looks, I just don't know. But he went to that audition because he knew she was hired. From what I've seen and read of her, I don't think she'd be good for him. She's too… _brash_ , if you know what I mean. My advice to you would be to watch your back around her."

I didn't trust Kristen any further than I could throw her skinny ass. No one had to tell me to watch my back once we returned to the States. I already knew that.

\---------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

Dad flipped the channels, and then suddenly turned off the television. I hoped that meant he was going to bed, but it seemed as if I was going to get the lecture I'd been hoping to avoid.

"That is one sweet girl you've managed to snag, son."

"Yes, she is," I agreed.

"You need to be good to her," he continued. His steely gray eyes were trained directly on mine. I cringed silently at the disapproval I saw in them. "Treat her with respect and act like the gentleman you were raised to be, which is something you seemed to have forgotten lately."

"Yes sir," I said quietly. There was nothing I could do but agree with him. There was no defense for my actions.

"Just remember that the more eyes that are on you, the more important it is for you to stay true to who you are. "  And with that final word of wisdom, he said goodnight and left the room.

\--------------------------------------------

"So? What did you think?"

We were snuggled up close in the backseat of the cab, neither one of us paying attention to the lights of the city as they sped by in a blur.

"They're nice. I like them," she answered. "The evening was so pleasant, totally different from things at my house, trust me on that.

"Your family can't be all that bad."

She laughed softly, but didn't say anything in response.

"You do realize you're now an official member of the Pattinson family." I went on to explain what it meant to "have a bit of tea" with my mum, but Bella didn't seem to mind that she'd been gently, but skillfully, grilled for information over a pot of PG Tips. She sighed and snuggled even closer underneath my arm.

"Just wait until you meet mine."

 

**ROBERT'S RED "NOT YOUR AVERAGE HORSE SHOW" T-SHIRT**

**BELLA'S GREEN PLANKTON T-SHIRT**

 


	37. A New and Old Friend

_**Monday, January 12 – Friday, January 16, 2009** _

**~ BELLA ~**

The next week we fell into a normal routine of sorts. Robert would get up at 6:30 AM, leave the apartment with a bottle of juice in one hand, a piece of fruit in the other, and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. While he was gone to the gym I tidied up the apartment, which didn't take very long, and worked on my writing.

I'd decided to shift the entire focus of my first attempt at writing a novel from the standard romance fare that had been done to death to a fictional look at fame and it's affect on people's lives—fiction based on fact, and from someone who was soon going to be living it every day of her life. Robert had no problem with me writing a story based loosely on his life. He encouraged it, actually.

In regards to the tidying up part of our relationship, Robert wasn't the neatest person in the world or the most motivated to clean up after himself. His dirty underwear very rarely made it to a clothes hamper. His socks seemed to have an uncanny ability to transport themselves through space. I'd found one under the bed and its mate in the bathroom, in the corner behind the toilet. Not sure how that had happened. The coffee table in the living room was buried under piles of papers, mostly scripts that his agent had sent him to read. I was dying to clean that table, or at least just straighten everything into neat piles, but I restrained myself for fear of misplacing something really important.  My mother would have thrown a brick-shitting fit if she would have seen me picking up after Robert. Mom was not a proponent of the "June Cleaver Model" of housekeeping and motherhood. Her favorite saying was:

"Just because I have a vagina doesn't mean that I am the only one who can_______." She'd then fill in the blank with the chore of her choosing.

But, in Robert's defense, he didn't lead a normal life, so I felt like his messiness could be overlooked. A man with the schedule he'd had these past months didn't exactly have time to worry about clothes hampers, dirty toilets or picking up candy wrappers. Someone else cleaned for him and took care of his every need. I knew in my heart that I was a disgrace to all of the feminists around the world, including my own mother, but damn it, I liked taking care of Robert. I loved cooking for him and keeping his space neat and tidy, doing his laundry and picking up after him. And it wasn't like he took it for granted or took advantage of it either. He always helped me clean the kitchen after our meals. For some reason, he was obsessed with keeping the ashtrays around the apartment emptied. He complimented my cooking, commented on how clean everything looked and smelled, and took care of the trash without me having to ask. Plus, the sex was amazing, and in my opinion, a man who could deliver in bed as well as Robert could deserved to be taken care of.

In the afternoons we went sightseeing, no matter the weather. Monday was the only exception, where we spent the day shopping for new clothes. I hated shopping, but it turned out that Robert and I were perfect shopping mates. We both had the same MO: we knew what we liked, made a bee-line for it, hurriedly tried it on, and if it fit we bought it. Half the time Robert didn't even try on his clothes. He just looked at the size and draped it over his arm. Never once did I hear 'Ohhhh, this is sooooo cute! Let's try this on, Abby!' like I did when Jess periodically dragged me out for a shopping marathon.

Tuesday, decked out in heavy coats with hoods, we hoofed it up the streets to Piccadilly Circus and then took the Tube to Buckingham Palace. We watched the changing of the guard underneath a gloomy sky that threatened to dump a cold, winter rain down upon us at any moment.

Robert laughed and rolled his eyes when I made my prediction that one day he'd be granted an audience with the Queen. "I think the Queen has better things to do than shake hands with some guy who plays a sparkling vampire in a teen movie."

"Yeah, like go shopping and buy some new clothes? For someone who has as much money as she does, she certainly has no taste when it comes to fashion."

Robert snickered, but hurriedly shushed me, looking around to see if anyone had heard my too-loud remark. "You don't bad-mouth the Queen in public," he instructed. He grinned and then winked. "Talk about her behind her back like the rest of us."

Wednesday, we took the train to Windsor Castle, the Queen's favorite weekend home. The only thing that interested me about Windsor was Queen Mary's Doll House. I hung out at that display for over an hour, peering at all the tiny furnishings in the various rooms. It was the most amazing dollhouse I had ever seen in my life. The items in it had been made especially for the house by the actual companies in existence at the time. The carpets, curtains and furnishings were copies of real items in the castle. Even the lights worked! The bathrooms were fully plumbed and had a flushable toilet and miniature toilet paper. Robert literally had to pull me away from it to get me to look at the rest of the castle.

Thursday. What could I say about Thursday except that it was a night that I would never forget as long as I lived. Robert piddled around the apartment after lunch complaining that he didn't feel like going out, that he was tired, he was sleepy, it was too cold outside, plus he was behind in reading his scripts. I heard every excuse in the world as to why we should stay home, until finally I convinced him that it was all right. I was perfectly happy taking a day off from sightseeing and spending a quiet afternoon with him.

Around 5:00 he got a text message from someone. He glanced at it and then jumped up from the sofa where he'd been sprawled out reading scripts.  "I'm bored. Let's go out," he suggested abruptly.

I was surprised, but didn't put up a fuss. My writing wasn't going smoothly and I was more than ready to take a break. "Sure, just let me change."

He refused to tell me where we were going, which made me instantly suspicious, and then suspicion soon turned to surprise when we ended up at a remote corner of Heathrow airport.

"We're going up," he said, grinning and pointing at the clear night sky. "I have a friend of a friend who is a pilot. We're going to do a little night sightseeing this time."

A few minutes later, I decided that seeing a city from the air at night was one of the most breathtaking sights in the world. You never realize how many lights there are in a major city until you're high enough to see them all at once. We flew over the Tower Bridge, which I mentioned I wanted to visit and he promised that we would. Then we veered by Big Ben, where I snickered and grabbed at his crotch. He yelped in embarrassment, checking to see if the pilot had noticed the shenanigans going on behind him. We flew over Piccadilly Circus where Robert and I had caught the Tube on Tuesday, and then the London Eye, the tallest Ferris wheel in Europe. We were in the air for almost an hour.

"I'm like Edward. This is definitely making it on my Top Ten List of Best Nights," I said after we landed.

"Number 10, of course." Robert snickered. "Because meeting me was number one, right?"

"Uh, actually, number one was when I learned how to change the oil in my Dad's truck all by myself."

His jaw dropped. "Really? You can do that?"

I laughed at how easy he was and punched him in the shoulder. "No, you dummy, I can't do that. Of course meeting you was number one!"

Friday afternoon was spent at Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. We took a bunch of goofy pictures with Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, Stalin, and Hitler, just to name a few. I even went so far as to pick out the perfect spot for Robert's future display, while he rolled his eyes and brushed me off like I had lost my mind.

But, the really great thing about our week of sightseeing was that not a single person bothered Robert. No requests for autographs or pictures, no paps, nothing. I guessed that he was right. Twilight really wasn't that big of a deal in England, but I had a feeling that would all change after New Moon.

We got home Friday evening just as it was getting dark. Robert headed straight for the shower while I puttered around in the kitchen rustling up some munchies. The doorbell interrupted my contemplation of the dwindling contents of our refrigerator. Robert was still in the shower, singing as usual, so I shut the fridge and trotted to the front door, remembering to look out the peep hole first before opening it.

OMG. Oh shit, shit, _SHIT!_

I couldn't believe who was standing outside Robert's door! I whipped around, searching for a mirror, a shiny surface, anything that would let me see my reflection, but there was nothing. _Oh shit! Is my hair messed up?_ I finger-combed my hair and then adjusted my shirt, pulling it down neatly over my jeans. The doorbell rang again, dashing my hopes that I could make a mad rush down the hall to the bedroom to check the mirror. I took a deep breath and opened the door to find Robert's friend, Sam Bradley, standing outside and looking rather perplexed.

"Oh…uh…hi. I must have the wrong apartment." He leaned back and looked at the brass numbers beside the door and then back at me. "72 Broadwick, right?"

"Who were you looking for?" I asked, knowing perfectly well who he'd expected to find on the other side of the door.

"Tall, skinny guy with a lot of moppy hair."

"Does he sparkle in the sunlight?" I asked, and then giggled at his confused expression.

"Oh, uh, yeah, that would be him," he answered, grinning when he finally got it.

"Come in, Sam." I stepped aside, allowing him to walk past me and into the hallway. "Robert's in the shower."

"So, you apparently know me, but I don't know you," he said, as he shed his coat and draped it across one of the chairs in the living room. He ran a hand through his brown curls—which were completely adorable—and then sat down on the sofa. I took the chair adjacent to him.

"I'm Abby. Abby Anderson, a friend of Robert's. It's soooooooo nice to meet you." I stretched out my hand and he leaned over and graciously shook it.

"Wow, I've got some catching up to do, apparently," he said, smiling.

"I've only been here eleven days, but I love London. It's amazing. Robert and I have done the tourist thing all week. He took me up in a helicopter last night to see London from the air. It was amazing!" I realized that I was prattling on like a complete airhead, and that I had used the word 'amazing' twice in one breath, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. "Wait just one second. I'll be right back." I dashed down the hall and into the bedroom just as Robert emerged from the shower, totally naked and still toweling off.

"Who was at the door?" he asked, dropping the towel on the floor.

I glared at him playfully. "Pick up that towel, and it was Sam. He's in the living room." I found what I was looking for and dashed back out of the room.

"Tell him I'll be right there!" Robert called after me.

"I'm back, sorry." I sat down beside of Sam on the sofa. "Could you sign this for me? It's my journal."

He smiled and accepted the book and the pen I offered him. "So, you're a fan of mine?" he asked.

I nodded, staring at the pen in his hand. Why did musicians all have such long beautiful fingers? "I love all of your music. Your voice is…amazing." I made a mental note to self to consult a thesaurus at my earliest convenience. I'd never before used the word 'amazing' so many times in the space of a few minutes.

Sam grinned even wider. "Why, thank you. Where do you want me to sign, and what should I say?"

\---------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

I walked into the living room to find Bella practically sitting on top of Sam, who had a pen and a book in his hand, obviously in the middle of signing an autograph.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed, plopping down into the armchair.

"Hey, Patty." Sam greeted me with one of his cocky, self-important grins. "I'm just signing an autograph. Gotta keep the fans happy, you know." He turned to Bella. "So, what should I write?"

She shrugged and giggled. _Giggled?_

"It doesn't matter. Anything."

Bella was acting completely ridiculous, like a goofy fan girl. I expected her to start screaming incoherently at any moment. I frowned and leaned forward in my chair. "Wait, woah. Just hold on a minute." Bella and Sam both raised their heads at the same time, waiting for me to continue. "In all of the months we've known each other you have never ONCE asked me for my autograph."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how juvenile I sounded. Was I jealous? Was I twenty-two or twelve? I could tell Bella was thinking the same thing, and Sam was smirking, the cheeky bastard.

"I don't need an autograph on a piece of paper. You've already written your name all over my heart," she said softly.

The room went quiet. Bella's eyes stayed fixed on mine. At that very moment, all I wanted to do was make love to her until she begged me to stop, and by the look in her eyes, the feeling was mutual.

"Damn, girl," Sam swore softly. "You have a way with words. That's beautiful. That would make an incredible lyric. Could I have your permission to use it?"

The spell between us was broken. "Of course you can use it," she said, blushing. "I'm flattered that you'd even want to."

Sam grinned, glanced at me, and handed the book and pen back to Bella. "So tell me, how did you two guys meet?"

Between the two of us, Bella and I took him through everything that had happened, from the night of the Twilight premiere to the night she'd arrived in London eleven days ago, leaving out the mess with Kristen. Neither one of us wanted to revisit that whole thing again.

"Well, I have to say that she's a major improvement over your past girlfriends," Sam said, grinning over at me. "At least this one doesn't come with a pump and patches."

"A pump and patches?" Bella looked confused.

I laughed and rolled my eyes, along with Sam. "A blow-up doll."

Her frown instantly evaporated, replaced by a crooked smile. "Oh, I get it now. That's cute."

"Bella?" Sam asked. "Patty, my friend, have you been drinking some bad Beluga or are you having a little trouble getting out of character?"

So then we had to explain to him about Bella's name, and the fact that I was the only one who referred to her as 'Bella', and that he was to keep that fact to himself or I'd rip his nuts off and use them as mistletoe this Christmas. He faked an appropriate amount of fear at my threat, squeaking in alarm with this high voice that had me and Bella both laughing. The man was an idiot, but funny as hell. It was good to see him, and I hoped we got a chance to hang out before he had to leave again.

"So, tell me how _you_ guys met," Bella said, when the laughter finally dwindled down.

Sam leaned forward and suddenly got very serious. "Oh, well now, that is an interesting story. I was working at the zoo, here in London, and I was taking care of the chinchillas. That was my division. And Rob was working there, too, and looking after the zebras. That's it, right?" he asked, looking at me for confirmation.

"Uh, yeah, I had the zebras," I answered, nodding. Then I glanced over at Bella. "I hated the zebras. Really messy animals."

She frowned, but nodded in agreement. "I imagine so."

"Yeah, there was a lot of shit involved, a lot of scooping," Sam added, shaking his head in dismay. "Anyway, one day, we were both on our break at the same time, which was very rare, and we got to talking about our jobs. I talked about my chinchillas, and he talked about his zebras. You know, I wanted to transfer into another division and I thought maybe…?"

"But I hated chinchillas even worse than I hated zebras," I interjected. "There was no way I was switching, so I suggested he ask for the rhinoceros division."

Bella's frown deepened, and her eyes were flicked with suspicion between the both of us, but she didn't interrupt.

"Then this really strange thing happened," Sam said mysteriously.I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it was the weirdest thing." I suspected that she was onto us, but I still kept up my end of the ruse.

"What happened?" Bella asked, frowning even more.

Sam shook his head in silent wonder. "This giraffe with a guitar in its mouth dropped into my arms, and then Simba, the lion, came over and gave Rob a harmonica and a guitar and then all of a sudden, BAM! A song! It was incredible!"

Bella narrowed her eyes and made a growling sound.

"We met at school," Sam said, with a straight face.

"When we were twelve," I added, fighting not to laugh.

As she'd begun to suspect, she'd been snowed. She grinned evilly, and tugged the throw pillow out from behind her and hit Sam over the head with it, repeatedly. I laughed so hard, as he tried to defend himself with his arms, that I thought I was going to shit my pants.

"And _you!_ " She left off hitting Sam and turned her wrath on me. "You're just as bad as he is!" The throw pillow sailed through the air with surprising force and hit me square in the face. "You two are so full of bullshit!"

"That was a pretty good one, eh mate?" Sam asked, grinning at me across the coffee table. When I laughed and nodded, he added, "I think I'll use that in an interview sometime when they ask how we met. Should be loads of fun."

Then we spent the next few minutes catching up on each other's lives. Sam was busy writing music and booking concerts well into November. He had a concert coming up in March in Vancouver, BC and I was going to bust my ass to get there. Another one in Vancouver May 2, right in the middle of New Moon shooting, which I hoped I could sneak out to see, too. He had bookings pending for Birmingham, Nashville, Honolulu, LA, NYC and even the Philippines. I was damned happy for him, and proud to have played even the tiniest part in helping launch his career.

"They're having open-mic night at Congo's Tuesday. We need to go. It'll be fun," Sam suggested. "Bring that black acoustic of yours and do some damned singing. It's been too long, mate."

I agreed. It seemed like forever since I'd done open-mic, and just the thought of getting up on stage and singing to a room full of people made me want to toss everything aside, get out my guitar and start practicing. I glanced over at Bella and she was smiling.

"I think it's a wonderful idea. You're going," she stated in her don't-argue-with-me voice.

"Excellent!" Sam exclaimed. "I have my guitar down in the car. Wanna play around some? I have a couple of ideas I want to run past you."

Bella smiled again and nodded silently, letting me know that she didn't mind if Sam and I spent the rest of the night playing music and acting like idiots.

"I'll scrounge up something for us to munch on," she said, getting up and starting towards the kitchen. "And I think there's some beer left. If not, we can break open a bottle of that wine you bought," she said with a wink.

Once Bella left the room and was in the kitchen, safely out of hearing range, Sam scratched his head and considered me with a serious expression very out-of-character for him. "That's a nice girl you've got there. None of that bitching and whining when your mates come round for some fun. You need to hold onto to _her,_ Patty."

\-----------------------------------------

_**Saturday, January 17, 2009** _

I slammed the script down on the coffee table in frustration. Bella jumped, and looked up from her laptop in surprise.

"Oh God, you scared me!" she yelped, and then she noticed the look of complete annoyance on my face. "What's wrong?"

"It's this break up scene," I answered. "I've read the thing a hundred times and tried to figure out how I'm going to play it, and it's just frustrating the hell out of me. It's a really important scene and if I fuck it up, then the whole first part of the movie is screwed."

Bella shut down her laptop and joined me on the sofa. "Well, maybe I can help. What's frustrating you about it?"

"You've read it. You know what the problem is. It's the dialogue. It's so abrupt. There's nothing there, really. It's stark, it's cold, it's…." I ran out of suitable words to describe how I felt about this poorly written scene. "It's up to me to flesh out the script and make it real in front of the camera, but how am I going to say this shit without making Edward look like a complete dick? He's a very controlled character, not the kind of guy who's going to break down in the middle of this. Not only do I have to say these lines to her, but I have to keep that wall up that Edward has built around himself, while still getting across to the audience that this is hurting him, too. This is going to be hard as hell to get right."

Bella made some comforting noises and rubbed my shoulder. "I know that I pretty much know beans about acting, but can I suggest something?"

I sank back against the sofa and sighed. "Yes. Please do."

"Remember the scene in Twilight where you and Bella first kissed in her bedroom? Everyone in the audience knew how painful it was for Edward to be that close to her and what strength it took for him to kiss her that first time. That was the most intense scene in the entire movie and it was because of how you handled it. I'll never forget that scene: you inched closer and closer and closer, and everyone in the audience was completely silent, just waiting and waiting for your lips to touch and wishing like hell you'd hurry up. It seemed like it took forever. Then finally, this very gentle kiss that only lasted a second or two, and then another one. But after that, your lips twitched and you got this strained expression on your face. It only lasted for a moment and then it was gone. But that one moment communicated how painful it was for Edward better than anything else you did in that scene. It was very subtle, but so powerful. What you need to do is find that one powerful moment in this scene that will show the audience how much Edward is suffering inside."

I shook my head in amazement. "And you said you didn't know anything about acting. I have an idea. Let's actually rehearse this. I'll be Edward, and, let's see, you can be _Bella._ " I couldn't help but laugh at the expression on her face.

"I can't act. It would be a complete disaster," she insisted, shaking her head in a combination of disbelief and denial.

"No it won't, I'll help you. Come on." I stood and grabbed her arm, dragging her with me into the center of the room.

"I can't do this. I swear," she whined. "I suck at this."

"Of course you can do it. You know these characters better than anybody. You live, eat and breathe Twilight and you're telling me that you couldn't step into Bella's shoes and say her lines? You'll do fine.

"Now, when you're rehearsing, you're not in full make-up, so you have to think yourself into the scene. Everything around you has to transform in your mind. Right at this moment, we're not in my living room in Soho, we're in Forks, in the woods. It's cold, the ground is wet, and all you hear are the sounds of the forest around you. Close your eyes and think yourself there, and then I'll start the scene."

I waited a few moments for her to get her mind in the right place and then started the scene with Edward's arrival:

_"Walk with me?"_

Bella opened her eyes to see my out-stretched hand. She took it, but we didn't actually walk anywhere. After a few moments, I dropped her hand and stepped back a step.

_"We need to leave Forks."_

Bella looked down at the script and delivered her lines. "What? Why?"

I sighed to myself. She sucked, just like she'd said she would, but I didn't say anything. We continued on through the script until it got to the point where I didn't know if I could take any more of her bad acting.

_"You don't belong in my world."_

_"I belong with you."_

She said it completely wrong, without any emphasis on the word 'you', which would have sounded better.

 _"You don't—"_ And of course, her "interruption" came a few seconds too late. _Timing is everything._

_"I'm coming."_

_"I don't want you to come!"_

"You wanted me to cum last night. You begged me to cum, actually," she said, just as serious as if it were part of the dialogue.

It took me a moment to realize that she had stepped out of character, and when I did, I fell completely apart. I couldn't help it, I laughed my ass off and she was laughing with me.

"You _do_ realize that you have completely ruined this scene for me," I sputtered, holding my sides, which were killing me from laughing so hard. "I gotta say, that line was priceless, but it's going to be stuck in my head forever."

"Sorry," she said, grinning. "But I told you I sucked. I had to do something to get you to stop."

I smiled back at her, and decided to give it another go. "You don't suck, you're just trying too hard. You've got to _be_ Bella Swan. You're not Abby and I'm not Rob. For these few minutes we're our characters, we're living their lives and experiencing their moment-in-time. Just go with it and forget about whether you suck or not. You KNOW what Bella is feeling, right?"

She nodded. "Her world is ending right in front of her," she said softly.

"Then show me that," I said just as softly.

She nodded and closed her eyes. I watched her take a couple of deep breaths. Her body relaxed. I could already tell this time around was going to be better.

_"Walk with me?"_

She took my outstretched hand and I was pleased to see her conveying curiosity to me with her eyes. I dropped her hand and sought the courage I knew Edward would need to say his first words to her.

_"We need to leave Forks."_

Only a little surprise registered on her face. _Good, Bella!_

" _What? Why?"_

_"It's time. Carlisle's supposed to be ten years older than he looks; people will start noticing."_

_"But…when?"_

So far, so good. Bella was appearing confused, but not overly alarmed yet.

 _"Now,"_ I said, starting to let a little of the coldness creep into my voice. I knew that Edward had to come into this conversation from the beginning completely controlled or it would degenerate into an emotional scene that he wouldn't be able to handle.

The script called for Bella to 'reel' in her attempt to take in the meaning of Edward's words. She did a pretty good job of 'reeling', and even added an uncertain stutter to her line.

_"I'll have to think of something to tell Charlie, but I can be ready-"_

I jumped right in with my interruption, using Edward's cold, hard voice again. _"Not you. Us."_

It was at that moment that I knew Bella was feeling her character. The shock on her face was genuine.  _"What? No, Edward. What happened with Jasper, that was nothing."_

I looked at her sadly. _"Not compared to what could happen. You don't belong in my world."_

 _"I belong with YOU."_ She got the emphasis right this time, and her voice was starting to tremble.

 _"You don't—"_ And this time, she interrupted me before I'd even sounded out the 't".

 _"I'm coming."_ Bella was deep into her character and it was obvious. I saw the desperation in her eyes, and heard it in her voice. Time to let her know that Edward meant business.

 _"I don't want you to come."_ I used a flat, emotionless voice to deliver Edward's most blasphemous lie.

Her reaction was immediate. Complete disbelief and then utter pain. _"You don't…want me?"_

_"No."_

Bella stepped back a step, as the script called for and studied me. _"Well, that changes things."_

That line wasn't in the script—probably a line from the book. I let her improvisation go, and continued on with my lines.  _"I'd like to ask one favor though."_

Bella looked up at me and there was such hope in her eyes, hope that Edward had changed his mind. _"Anything."_

At that moment, my respect for my character went up tenfold. How had the man done it? How had he been able to look into her eyes and continue on? Only a profound love for her could have gotten him through it. I softened my voice, as the script called for. A brief moment of weakness for Edward.  _"Don't do anything stupid or reckless. Do you understand?"_ I hesitated before continuing. _"For Charlie's sake. Just…take care of yourself."_

 _"I…yes…I will."_ She stuttered, and her voice weakened. Like Bella had said, her character was finally grasping that her world was ending right in front of her, and it was hell for me to watch with Edward's eyes.

 _"Don't worry. You're human. Time heals all wounds for your kind. Particularly if you're not reminded."_ I put just a little more emphasis on the words 'for your kind' to let the audience know that such healing wouldn't be in the cards for Edward. _Poor guy._

 _"No, this is-. Don't do this…please."_ There were real tears in Bella's eyes, real pain. I almost felt guilty, like it was me hurting her instead of Edward, like we were living my betrayal with Kristen all over again. I wondered if that was even going through her mind, or if it was just me.

I turned my voice to ice, as the script called for. It was at this point that Edward realized if he didn't stop the pleading in its tracks, he'd cave.  _"Try to understand. Every second with you is about restraint. You're too…fragile. I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. Reigning myself in so I can be with a human."_

 _"Then take my soul! I don't care! I don't want it without you!"_ Bella was shouting now, and tears were pooling in her eyes. She was getting better and better as we progressed through the scene toward the end.

 _"You're not good for me, Bella!"_ I snapped my line out, hard and cold and full of steely resolve. It was a cruel line to deliver, but Edward had to stop the pleading or he'd never be able to leave her.

Tears started to streak down her face. I stepped forward and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. I heard a small whimper/sob from Bella, and instantly knew that this was the 'powerful moment' I was searching for. Bella couldn't see my face, but the audience could. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, and let just a little of the pain Edward was feeling show in my face before I pulled away.

_"I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I'd never existed. Goodbye, Bella."_

I delivered the lines from the book instead of the script and the effect on Bella was instantaneous. She disintegrated into tears, which wasn't called for anywhere in the script. Script Bella was supposed to be in a state of numb shock, not sobbing her heart out hysterically. I stepped out of character and yelled "Cut!" and made the sign for end-of-scene with both hands.

"Oh my God." Bella sank down into the nearest chair and continued to cry. She swiped at her face with a trembling hand and wiped her nose on her shirt. "That was incredible."

I pulled a chair over beside her and patted her back. "Yes it was. You were amazing, and you said you couldn't act."

She waved her hand back and forth and shook her head, the tears still pouring from her eyes. "That's not what I meant. Oh my God, that was incredible. Oh my God." She kept repeating that over and over until I began to wonder if something was wrong. She appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Bella, honey, slow down," I urged her. "You're breathing too fast, just slow down." I made her take a bunch of deep breaths and offered her my t-shirt to clean up her face. "Are you all right? I mean, that scene wasn't that good, was it?"

"You don't understand," she said, sniffing.

"Tell me," I answered. "I'll understand, I promise."

She shook her head vehemently. "You'll laugh."

"No, I won't," I said softly. "I promise, I won't laugh."

She stared at me for a long time before she finally told me. "I just talked to Edward Cullen."

And since I promised her I wouldn't laugh, I didn't, even though I wanted to. "We were rehearsing. Of course you talked to Edward Cullen."

"No, you don't understand, Robert. I really talked to Edward Cullen and he talked to me. That wasn't you speaking, that was Edward. I have never in my life experienced anything like that. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would get to speak to a man who is as dear to me as an old friend, even if he's just a character out of a book. It was surreal. This is the magic in what you do, in acting. You brought this man that I love to life right in front of me and I'll never forget that."

It was at that moment that I finally got it. I finally realized the reason behind the hysteria that followed me wherever I went. It was the character, not me. The love the fans had for this character was incredibly deep and I had an obligation to portray him as close to their ideal as I could. I'd never brought a character like Edward to life, one who was loved by so many different people, from teenagers all the way to grandmothers. I didn't understand it—as I'd never been invested in a character to this degree on a personal level—but I certainly felt the pressure to get it right. If it meant this much to Bella, who was clearly able to differentiate between the actor and the character, then I could only imagine what it meant to strangers who didn't know me personally, and only saw Edward when they looked at my face.

"Would you like to be on set when we shoot? Full make-up and costume, the real Edward in the flesh?"

"You could do that?" she gasped.

I grinned. "I'm the star of this gig. Of course I can do that."

She threw her arms around my neck and squealed. "Yes, yes! I'd love that! Thank you!"

"And guess what?"

She loosened her arms and leaned back to look at me. "What?"

"I found that 'powerful moment' you said I needed. When I kissed you on the forehead, I realized that Bella couldn't see me, but the camera could, so I let a little of Edward's pain out right at that moment."

"It sounds perfect," she said.

"So, are you up for another run-through?" I asked hesitantly.

"You mean, do I want to talk to Edward again? Are you kidding?" She laughed and wriggled out of my arms, grabbed the script and was already sinking into character before I could even get up from my chair.

"Let's work on the reunion scene in Volterra," I suggested.

\--------------------------------------

 **AUTHOR NOTES:** I visited London in 1986, so the sight-seeing excursions are straight from my memory. Bella’s comments on the Queen’s fashion sense were mine (LOL) and her fascination with Queen Mary’s dollhouse was mine also. That dollhouse is the only thing I remember about Windsor Castle. Funny, but my husband remembers absolutely NOTHING about Windsor, not even the dollhouse. I have actual pictures of me standing beside of Michael Jackson’s wax figure and my husband beside of Stalin and Hitler.

 

The whole “zoo story” that Sam fed to Bella about how he and Rob met came from an actual interview that TwiMoms conducted with Sam on June 5, 2009 at Whiskey A Go-Go in Los Angeles. He has that characteristic dry British wit, just like Rob, and it’s adorable.

The lines that Bella and Rob practiced came from the December 2008 revised script, which underwent many changes before filming. If you compare the movie to the script, the breakup scene appears slightly different in the film.

**SAM BRADLEY**

**LONDON AT NIGHT (PICCADILLY CIRCUS)**

  **BIG BEN**

**TOWER BRIDGE**

**THE LONDON EYE**

**[QUEEN MARY's DOLLS' HOUSE (VIDEO)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CH7ecMYvhfU) **

 

 


	38. Congo's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very poor quality photo was taken of Rob on Jan, 20, 2009 during an open-mike night performance at an “unnamed” Soho pub. There are many pubs in London’s Soho, but Congo’s isn’t one of them. It’s a complete figment of my imagination. Also fiction is the “incident” that occurred in Congo’s that night, which was never reported in the local news or linked to Robert Pattinson in the national media. Also, this chapter did NOT end the way I intended, and it's all Robert's fault. The man just can't help that he's so damned sexy.

\---------------------------------------

_**Tuesday, January 20, 2009** _

**~ BELLA ~**

I stepped out of the cab and into the cold night air. While Robert maneuvered his guitar case out of the back seat, I took a look around. The neon signs of various businesses lit up the darkness but none of them were what we were looking for.

“I think we’re in the wrong place. I don’t see a sign for Congo’s,” I observed.

Robert laughed. “That’s because there isn’t one.”

“Aaah, I see. So, where is it?” Straight ahead of me was nothing but a solid brick wall, and the businesses beside it were obviously not pubs.

“You’re standing right at the entrance. Open your eyes, babe.” Robert was having a good old time making fun of me as I searched for a door, but of course I was searching for a door where doors were _supposed_ to be: at ground level and in the center of a wall. I never thought to look down. Finally, I realized that the sidewalk ended two feet in front of the brick wall, and closer inspection in the inky darkness revealed a set of concrete stairs leading down.

“It’s underground??” I asked, astonished.

“Yep,” Robert answered. “Only the locals know about this place. Most tourists walk right by it every night and never even notice it. There’s no sign. Still, every now and then someone stumbles upon it accidentally, but mostly it’s just Londoners inside.”

He went in front of me and led the way down the steps, speaking to me over his shoulder as we went. “Congo’s isn’t the name of it either. It has a real business name, but no one bothers with that. Everyone’s called it Congo’s as long as I remember. That’s the name of the guy who owns it, by the way: Congo, and he’s a very colorful character with a very murky past.”  Robert laughed softly and pushed open the door, revealing another world, an underground world of music and noise, laughter and cigarette smoke, food and warmth and fun. I loved Congo’s already.

I trailed behind him as we weaved our way through the people, past the crowded bar, the equally crowded game room and finally to a relatively quieter room which housed the booths for eating. Robert was immediately recognized and let to a far corner table, which just happened to be empty.

I raised a skeptical eyebrow as we slid into the booths. “I reserved it,” he said. “I’m a regular, at least when I’m in town, which isn’t very often these days.” He leaned his guitar case up against the wall and in moments a large beefy man, with massive tattooed guns, and without a speck of hair on his head sauntered over to our booth.

“Well, if it isn’t Patty,” the man said, shaking his head and grinning. He glanced my way and raised his eyebrows clear to the top of his shiny bald head. “Woah, and this one doesn’t need a leash or a collar, I see. Lucky for you, because I took dog biscuits off the menu a long time ago.” He boomed with laughter at his own joke. “She is definitely a vast improvement over your usual dates. Congo, at your service.” He extended his hand to me.

“Abby,” I said, his huge hand swallowing mine up completely. “Nice to meet you, Congo. That’s an interesting name. Is it real?”

Robert interrupted before Congo could open his mouth, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “It’s a nickname, and don’t ask. Trust me. It’s a vile story involving naked African women and assorted animals.”

“Hey!” Congo put his hand over his heart and frowned. “You wound me, Patty. It was only one animal, not plural. Don’t make me out to be more of a pervert than I already am.” He winked at me, snickered and slapped our menus down on the table.

I decided to trust Robert’s word. The origin of his nickname would forever remain a mystery as far as I was concerned. But I liked Congo. For a giant of a man, he appeared to be sweet and funny.

Dinner was fun. Robert was in a heady mood, laughing and joking, teasing me over little things, constantly touching my hand, my arm. He smoked a cigarette and nursed a beer while I consumed the most incredible burger and potato wedges that I’d ever eaten in my life. He stole a wedge or two from my plate, but that was all, because he was going to be up on stage singing before the night was over. I could hardly wait to see him perform.

Then his friends showed up at our table. Sam was alone, which shocked me. The man was so personable that I couldn’t imagine him not having at least one girl on his arm. The other people were old friends and acquaintances from Barnes, none of the familiar names I’d come to associate with Robert’s inner circle. Introductions were made and quickly forgotten, as we moved from the booths into the enormous dance room.

A small stage was situated front and center. Postage stamp sized dance floors were scattered all around the edges of the room, while the middle was crammed full of small square tables. We scooted three of them together into one long line. I ended up sandwiched in between Robert and Sam, which was the best place a girl could be, in my humble opinion.

Before long, a person would have had to move a bottle just to discover the color of the tablecloth underneath. I’d never seen so much liquor in my entire life. Everyone at the table was well on their way to “Dumbass-ville”—as my mother laughingly called being drunk—except for me, Robert and Sam. Robert and I were each working on a beer and Sam had been nursing the same glass of amber liquid for ages.

We listened to various singers—some good and some not-so-good—as we laughed, talked and sipped at our drinks. Eventually, Robert had to leave and get ready for his time up on stage. Sam was left in charge of me, which answered the question as to why he was date-less and not over-indulging. But as far as baby-sitters went, I could have done a lot worse. While we waited for Robert’s appearance, Sam kept me entertained with the most ridiculous stories, some so silly that I knew they had to be true.

It was at that moment that biology decided my fate and set in motion the bizarre events that would turn this evening into one of the most memorable of my stay in England. The beer had gone straight through me, not even hesitating on its journey to my bladder. “Good for the kidneys!” was my grandmother’s favorite reason for downing a Budweiser every now and then. I now understood why.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said in Sam’s ear. He pointed me in the general direction and then turned his attention to the stage. I made my way back through the crowds, past the pushed-together tables, through the small groups of people dancing and talking, until I made it to the neon ‘Women’ sign. The bathroom was large, tiled and quiet. The noise of the club faded into the background as I slid into a stall and took care of business. I needed to hurry. Robert would be on stage any minute. It was during the washing and drying of hands that it all started.

“Well, look who we have here: the poster girl for Aeropostale. Isn’t she just the cutest thing?”

I’d only heard that voice once and once was definitely enough. I looked in the mirror, over my own shoulder, to see Julia and Company standing behind me and staring me down with distaste like I was a cockroach that had crawled out from a crack in the floor. Well, I had news for Julia. I wasn’t a fucking bug. I took a metaphorical deep breath for courage and turned around.

“That’s better than being the poster girl for Whores R Us.” I smirked. “At least my merchandise is new-in-the-box, not used.”

Julia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her haughty smile was still frozen in place. “Oh my, and she’s witty, too.” The three bimbos gathered around her tittered.

“Wearing logos on one’s chest is soooo American,” one of the brunettes said, sniffing with disdain.

“And gauche,” a bleach blonde added.

I raised one eyebrow and chuckled. “At least I _have_ a chest.”

The temperature in the restroom dropped twenty degrees as the bleach blonde with the concave washboard tits bored a hole in my forehead with her icy blue eyes.

“And mine aren’t plastic, either,” I said, shifting my gaze to Julia and her water-balloon boobs that were barely stuffed into her low-necked blouse. Give me a hammer and a good-sized nail, and those things could fill up the sink with enough water to do the dishes.

I smiled to myself at the look on her face. I was on a roll now. _Keep ‘em coming girls. I have a million of these zingers._

Julia’s eyes went hard and cold. “You stupid little girl,” she sneered. “Look at you. You’re barely out of diapers. Patty’s practically a pedophile for doing you.” Her crew laughed and nodded. “You are way out of your league and too dumb to know it. You’ve seen the girls he’s dated in the past, right? Nina Schubert, for example?”

I’d never heard of her and frankly didn’t care.

“Oh what do you know. I happen to have a picture of the happy couple right here in my purse.” She pulled what was obviously a paper copy of a photo out of her purse and held it up in front of my face.

“They lived together for three years. She was a model, sweetie. Not some Plain Jane little girl he found at the local playground. And guess who’s in town? Nina! And she’s been talking to reporters, too. Seems she’s very sad about letting Rob slip through her fingers.“ She pouted her lips together and looked at me with these big-assed fake Bambie doe-eyes.

I snorted. “Yeah, that seems to be a trend these days. Girls who didn’t give Robert the time of day when he was nobody are suddenly discovering their unrequited love for him now that he’s famous. And girls who broke up with him suddenly want him back. Give me a break, Julia. You think I care about Nina Schubert? Because I don’t… _sweetie._ ”

“Don’t forget about Elaina,” the bleach blonde said, her voice dripping with smarminess. “His eternal side-piece.”

Another round of catty snickers. I decided to leave that one alone. I wasn’t going to go into the whole discussion Robert and I had had about Elaina, at least not in a public restroom. Maybe later over tea? With arsenic?

“Patty’s just going through his ‘American Girl’ phase,” Julia explained to her girls and to everyone else who might have been in the bathroom just trying to take an innocent pee. “You know how our boys are. Always thinking the pussy is better on the other side of the pond. Poor things. They’re not very smart when it comes to matters of the cock.” She grinned and glanced down at my crotch.

“He’s smart enough to know what he wants,” I asserted.

One of the silent brunettes finally opened her mouth. She laughed and then snorted, which was certainly not gauche. “The only time men are smart is when they’re asleep.”

I realized that I was probably missing Robert’s performance, and while this chit-chatting with the local sluts was fun, Robert was more important. “Excuse me,” I said, attempting to make my way around them. The two brunettes and the blonde boxed me in. Julia stood in front of me, keeping me pinned against the marble sink.

“In a way, I feel sorry for you,” she continued. “I’d hate to be in those quaint little sneakers of yours. Girls are going to be throwing their vaginas at Patty right and left. It’s going to be a full-time job just keeping an eye on him.” She snickered and her crew followed suit. “In fact, I predict that he’ll end up fucking his co-star. What’s her name again? Kristen Stewart? That is, if he hasn’t already fucked her.”

Out of all the shit that had come out of her mouth, Julia had unexpectedly found just the right turd to set me off. Before I even thought, I lashed out. I launched all of the anger and hurt over Robert’s betrayal in Julia’s direction. The slap rang loud in the tiled bathroom. Then silence ensued as she and her gals reacted. I braced for what was coming. It didn’t take long. Seconds.

“You fucking little bitch!!” She screeched and slapped me back, meaning to hit my cheek, but at the last second, I turned my head slightly. Something hard and metallic, probably a ring, hit my mouth and brought blood, which pissed me off even more. It was dripping onto another one of my favorite Aeropostale shirts.

My dad’s words rang crystal clear in my mind, as if he were standing right beside me. _‘Fist closed, Abby. Thumb across pointer and middle finger. Punch as straight out from your shoulder as possible and, if you’re aiming at their face, attempt to make contact with knuckles first.’_

The skank was taller than me, so I had no choice but to hit upwards. I reared back my arm and punched as hard as I could, right into the bitch’s nose. Blood spurted onto my screaming knuckles. They were going to hurt like hell later. Her screeches and curses, and the outraged voices of her skinny cronies bounced off the tiled walls of the bathroom.

 _‘Strike again while they’re down. Don’t wait for them to recover.’_ More sage advice from my dad.

I launched myself at her, and with the full force of my body, shifted her weight to the side. Off-balance and bleeding, she crashed to the floor, taking me with her. I landed on top of her, quickly pushing myself up and straddling her bony hips, and kept right on punching—her neck, her head, her fake tits.

_‘Don’t forget about your elbows and your knees.’_

I smiled to myself. Good old Dad. How smart he was to have taught his only daughter how to defend herself against bullies and forward teenage boys.

 -----------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

“Hey man, that was great!” Sam grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. “You sounded fantastic up there. It’s good to hear that voice of yours again.”

I took a gulp of beer to ease the dry throat and noticed Bella wasn’t around. “Thanks. Where’s Bella?”

“Bathroom,” he said, shrugging. “She’s been gone awhile, but you know how chicks are. They never look good enough, when in actuality they look perfectly fine to begin with. I’ll never understand them, which is a good thing, because if I _did_ understand them, then they wouldn’t be as interesting, now would they?”

I ignored Sam’s rhetorical question and glanced around the room, wondering if I should go out in search of her. I got my answer when Congo suddenly appeared at our table looking both perturbed and amused at the same time. He leaned down and spoke quietly in my ear.

“There was a fight in the women’s restroom. I bounced four of them out on their pretty little asses and onto the sidewalk, but your girl is in my office. She’s a little banged up, but it’s nothing serious. She’s going to be all right.”

My mouth dropped open. “Abby was in a fight??”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. I knew how he felt. I was having trouble wrapping my head around it, too. My sweet and petite bundle of brunette love in a fight??

“Be back in a few,” I said to Sam. I followed Congo’s directions to an office at the end of a quiet and deserted hallway. I pushed the door open to find a disheveled Bella hunched up in a ball on the sofa holding a wadded bloody tissue against her mouth and nose.  “Oh my god,” I breathed in alarm. In an instant I was beside her on the sofa. As soon as my arm slid around her back, she fell against my side and dissolved into tears.

“I’m sorry,” she gulped in between the crying and sniffing. “I missed your performance. I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t give one big fuck about my performance. I wanted a piece of whoever had dared to hit Bella in the face. “Who did this?? Tell me what happened!”

“It was Julia and three of her Merry Band of Sluts,” she said, hiccupping and sniffing.

I instantly saw red. “Tell me.”

“It was just your typical girl drama, Robert,” she said, but as she began to explain, her temper rose just a little more with each word. I’d only seen this side of her once, when she’d hit me in the face at that motel in Vancouver.

“She was putting me down, and I was not going to listen to it! Just because the bitch is British doesn’t make her better than me!” I opened my mouth to agree, but she barreled on before I could even speak. “Making fun of my clothes, my age! She even called you a pedophile, Robert!! And then going on about all your past girlfriends and how they were models. Some chick named Nina. She even had a picture. Talk about being prepared. Wonder how long the slut carried that around in her purse, hoping to run into me??”

Nina Schubert?? That had been over for three years. Why the hell had Julia brought that up?

“I tried to leave but they wouldn’t let me. Then Julia started talking about how I was just part of your ‘American Girl’ phase and that British boys only like American girls because they think the pussy is better on the other side of the fucking pond!”

She blew and wiped at her nose. The wad of tissues came away bloody. I yanked a handful of fresh ones out of the box sitting on the coffee table and handed them to her.

“That’s ridiculous.” I laughed at the thought of her taking that dumb shit seriously.

“I know, right? But then she started going on about how girls were going to be throwing their vaginas at you and that it was going to take all my time just to keep an eye on you.”

I had to admit, that one rendered me speechless. Girls throwing their vaginas at me?? Just the image alone was enough to make me want to laugh my ass off, but I knew better than to even snicker. Bella wouldn’t have been amused, if the current look on her face was any indication. So, I let it go.

“Who threw the first punch?”

She straightened her back and proclaimed proudly, “I did!”

“What exactly made you hit her?” None of the bullshit she’d told me sounded serious enough for Bella to lose her temper and throw a punch.

It was then that she turned away from me. She looked down at her feet and shrugged.

“Tell me,” I urged.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Bellaaaaa.”

She shook her head.

I sighed and fell back against the sofa back in frustration. I stared at her back, wondering how I was going to get it out of her. Telling her honestly how I felt about it was probably the best approach.

“So this is how it’s going to be between us? I have to be honest about stuff, but you don’t?”

She whipped her head around and frowned at me, and then just as suddenly it dissolved. She knew I was right. She’d called for me to be honest with her about everything. Well, that dick swung both ways, as far as I was concerned.

She sighed and looked at the floor. “She predicted that you’d end up fucking your co-star, if you hadn’t fucked her already.”

That punched me in the gut— _hard_. It killed me to know that Bella was still hurting over my betrayal. All Julia had done was say the wrong thing at precisely the right time. Deep down, I knew the anger behind the punches had been for me, not Julia. This was in my lap. I pushed everything on the coffee table to the side and sat down on it, facing her. I tugged at her chin until she was forced to look at me. Her right eye was puffy; the cunt had managed to get in a pretty good punch. But it should have been me Bella had hit. How was I ever going to fix this?

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” I said quietly, looking into her eyes. What else could I say that hadn’t already been said?

She nodded.

“If I wanted Kristen, I’d be with her right now,” I said simply. And I would. I would never consider staying with someone if I didn’t truly want them in my life.

She nodded again. “I know. I can’t believe I let her get to me. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Embarrassed me??” I sputtered, laughing. “Apparently you haven’t seen my drunken photos all over the internet. Google ‘Robert Pattinson drunk’ and you’ll see that I’m not that easily embarrassed. I’m just pissed that Julia dredged this shit up again.”

“No, it’s not Julia’s fault,” she insisted, her voice stronger now. She pushed her tangled hair back from her face and straightened. “I have to learn to deal with this. We’re going back home soon and she’s there. You’re going to be working with her every day. I can’t just go around throwing temper tantrums and punching people out every time they mention her name.”

I sighed aloud. This was going to be the biggest challenge for us. I felt sure Bella could handle the screaming girls, the long hours, the separations, and the loss of my privacy. But Kristen? I wasn’t so sure about that. What would it be like when the two actually met? I shuddered to think.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” I insisted. “I promise that you will never have a reason to doubt me, Bella. I love you.” I didn’t know what else to say. Apparently it was enough. She fell against my chest and wrapped her arms around me. I pulled her close and just held her.

“I love you, too,” she said softly.

I pulled her back, intending to kiss her, but her split lip gave me pause. “Damn, she cut your lip pretty bad.”

She touched a finger to her lip and flinched. “She had on a ring bigger than a Texas asshole. I guess that did it.”

“A Texas asshole?” I asked, laughing.

“It’s a joke,” she mumbled. “You know, everything’s bigger in Texas?”

“Aah, I see.” At least I thought I did. Americans could say the funniest things sometimes. Strange, but still funny. “Why Texas?”

She looked up at me, the frown made a deep crease all the way across her forehead. “I don’t know,” she said, laughing. “It’s just what people say. Things are bigger in Texas.”

I settled for a kiss on the corner of her mouth. Just a tender touch of our lips, but it was enough.

“I want to go home,” she said.

\--------------------------------------

“So tell me how it went down.”

The cab was crawling through the streets as the late-night crowd made their way to and from wherever they were going to have fun. Bella was holding my right hand, as her right hand was too sore to touch. We were scrunched up in the back seat like sardines, my guitar taking up most of the leg room.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I’m just curious as to who punched who and where. It’s a guy thing, I guess. There’s just something fascinating about girls fighting.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s sick.”

“Yeah, I know,” I admitted sheepishly. I waited anxiously for her to start. Nothing. “Bella…”

“You really want to know?” she asked in astonishment.

“Yes!”

She sighed and rolled her eyes again. “Okay, I slapped her really hard. It stung like a son-of-a-bitch.” She laughed. “That’s what my dad always says. Then she slapped me back, hitting me in the mouth with that big-assed ring. That’s when I remembered all the stuff my dad taught me about fighting. You know that you have to make a fist with your thumb outside of your fingers, not tucked in, right?”

I nodded. _Sure, I knew that._ Actually, no, I hadn’t, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Bella. I’d never fought anyone in an actual fist fight in my entire life.

“Well, I plowed her right in the nose. Hurt like hell, too. My knuckles are killing me.”

Congo had determined, through some very ginger maneuvering of her fingers, that she hadn’t broken anything. I supposed that his time as a medic in the military did give his diagnosis some credibility. Regardless, she seemed able to move her fingers freely; they were just very sore.

“Then I pushed her off balance with my body and we both fell to the floor. I think she might have broken a wrist trying to catch herself. I heard the snap, I think. It was hard to tell, because I was punching the shit out of her face, neck and tits.”

“Her tits?? Damn, that’s like kicking a guy in the nuts,” I commented, laughing. “That has to hurt.”

“Not when you have two water balloons for boobs. I doubt she even felt it. Then she kneed me in the hoo-ha really hard. I jabbed her in the ribs for that one.”

“Ouch, shit.” I cringed at the thought and scrunched my legs together instinctively, and I didn’t even have one.

The cab pulled up in front of The Magazine House, and her blow-by-blow account of the fight came to a halt. I hurriedly paid off the driver, dragged my guitar out of the back seat and we made our way inside and to the elevator. We didn’t talk until the elevator doors shut behind us.

“Then what happened?”

She looked at me strangely. “Robert?” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “It was just a stupid girl fight. I pulled her hair, she pulled mine. I ripped her shirt down the middle, and she ripped mine.” She shrugged and then narrowed her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You mean, as long as we’ve been together, you don’t recognize my horny look??”

“That’s not your horny look,” she said, shaking her head.

“It’s one of them. I have a vast repertoire of horny looks.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” she asked.

Should I be honest? _Yep._ “Just thinking of you rolling around in the floor and fighting is sexy,” I said, as the elevator slowly rose to the top of the building.

She stared silently back at me for a few moments. “Sexy??”

I nodded. “Yeah. My todger’s as big as…” I searched for the appropriate analogy, when our conversation from before popped into my head. “…Texas.” I grinned, knowing full well that she had no idea what I was talking about.

“What in God’s name is a ‘todger’?” she asked.

“Look down, Bella.”

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival on the roof. The doors slid open, but no one exited.

“Aaah, a todger.” She grinned and bit her lip, which always drove me crazy, and she knew it. Her eyes flicked up from my crotch and back to my face. “Big as Texas, huh?”

We stared at each other across the few feet of the elevator car. We were having one of those unexpected moments when your eyes meet across a distance, and electricity sizzles in the air around you, crawling across your skin and raising chill bumps everywhere it touches.

“I want to fuck you.” That filter that made sure the vulgar shit in my brain always came out romantic and sweet was obviously broken.

Her eyes widened. Her sharp intake of breath made my dick throb. “I like the sound of that,” she said, her voice low and husky, and so damned sexy that I wanted to do her right there on the elevator floor.

Instead, I punched the ‘open door’ button on the elevator and practically dragged her and my guitar across the concrete roof to our front door. Jabbed the key in the lock. Kicked the door open. She slid past me and into the dark hallway. I kicked the door shut behind us, dropped my guitar and keys to the floor, and started shucking off clothes. Bella followed suit, as best as she could with one hand. Our hair popped and crackled as shirts were pulled over heads. I helped her with her jeans, shimmying them down her thighs until they puddled on the floor at her feet. She kicked them away while I yanked mine off. Less than a minute later, we were both starkers and devouring each other bodies with our eyes.

“Where?” she asked.

“Dining room table.”

A sexy whimper slid out of her throat, and I almost ditched the idea of the table, opting instead for a wall fuck. But before I could act on it, Bella was gone, trotting into the living room, across to the table next to the window, with me following behind her. She stood at the end of the table and then looked over her shoulder at me with her sex-kitten smile. Then she slowly bent at the waist and laid her chest and stomach down on the table, leaving her center wide open for me.

I growled. Yeah, I fucking growled low in my throat at seeing her legs spread open. The curtains were pulled back, allowing the moonlight to wash over the room. Her skin glowed, the crevice between her thighs glistened with moisture. The skin on my dick was stretched so tight it felt ready to split. I ached to be inside of her… _literally._

“Robert,” she whimpered.

That was all it took. I gripped her ass in both my hands and guided my tip to her entrance, pushed in, just barely penetrating her. I stopped and held steady, groaning as I felt the soft warmth of her opening caress my head. She undulated her thighs, sending me just a little deeper inside. That was when my control snapped.

I slammed into her in one long, hard stroke. Deep and rough. She gasped. Her left hand shot out and gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, as I hammered between her open thighs. The table scooted across the floor a little more each time I pounded into her, until it finally slammed into the far wall. Bella’s strident cries and pleas for me to go harder sounded like they were coming from a great distance, instead of just below me. I was out of it. Gone. The apartment didn’t exist. Hell, I didn’t even know what world I was in as I continued to saw away at her. This was going to be the most epic fuck I’d ever had in my life. I just had that feeling.

Then Bella screamed as her orgasm blasted through her body. A gush of warmth spurted out of her, coating my dick and gushing onto my thighs. _What the fuck??_ It momentarily took me by surprise, but when I realized what had happened, my body went into fucking overload. I exploded, screaming, my voice loud and hoarse, my vulgar obscenities mixing with Bella’s tenor cries. It was the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

When it was over, I literally collapsed on top of her back into a wilted heap. Neither one of us moved, although I was sure I was too heavy and that she was as uncomfortable as I was. Whispered obscenities still poured out of my mouth as I waited for my heart to quit thumping wildly in my chest.

“God, I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

I backed away so she could get up from the table. I turned her around and gathered her in my arms. “You have nothing to apologize for. That was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

“That’s never happened to me before. You didn’t think it was…gross?” she asked, hesitant to meet my eyes.

“Gross?? Hell no. Are you kidding?” I pulled her against me and gently kissed her swollen mouth. “I’ve heard about women coming just like guys, but that’s the first time I’ve ever experienced it. I loved it. It was incredible and you have nothing to apologize for, and I hope like hell it happens again.”

She wrapped her arms around me. We were both sweaty and drenched with each other’s bodily fluids, but that didn’t matter to me. I felt closer to her at that moment than I’d ever felt to anyone in my life.

“I’m right where I want to be,” I murmured into her hair.

She sighed. “So am I.”

**ROB AT OPEN MIC NIGHT (UNNAMED PUB IN SOHO)**

**ME AND NINA SCHUBERT (we lived together from 2003 to 2006)**

 

 


	39. Fuck Edward Cullen

_**Tuesday, February 10, 2009** _

**~ ROB ~**

“I got my schedule.” I sighed and plopped down at the dining room table with letter in hand. Bella looked up from her writing and frowned.

“That bad?”

“Yeah, that bad.” I scanned the official Summit letterhead that contained Robert Pattinson’s life all mapped out for the next four months in a nice little bulleted list. “It’s hectic and very tight, but that’s nothing new. I have two days of meetings with Summit on the 17th and 18th. I have the Academy Awards on the 22nd, and then the next day, we’re on a plane to Japan. I’m there for the premiere on the 27th and then back on a plane to LA. I have two days there, and then I’m on a plane to Vancouver to start pre-production meetings for New Moon on March 4th. After that, my ass is slammed until the end of May.”

Our eyes met across the table as we both acknowledged what that meant. The madness, the chaos, the first real test of the strength of our relationship was just over the horizon. I wasn’t sure I was ready. I’d gotten spoiled from this vacation, from having all the free time I wanted, from having Bella with me twenty-four hours a day. It was going to be rough haul to get my ass back to reality.

We discussed when we should leave London. I needed to get up to Washington to meet her parents before all the craziness started, but I didn’t want to leave England until after the 13th. Bobby was appearing at the Groucho Club and I wanted to see his show before I left. Plus, Valentine’s Day was in four days, and I’d already made surprise plans for our evening.

We finally decided to fly out early on the 15th and part ways in LA. She’d take a connecting flight on to Seattle and I’d stay for my meetings. I’d fly up to meet her parents on the evening of the 18th. That would give us two good days to relax with her family before I had to be back in LA for the Oscars.

“Oh, and I need your Social Security Number so the production people can do a background check on you.”

She raised her eyebrows in shock. “Background check??”

I nodded and sighed. “No one gets on the set until they’ve been thoroughly vetted. You have to sign a confidentiality agreement stating that if you leak anything from the film or talk to the press without their permission, then they can sue your ass off, and basically make your life a living hell. That’s why I guard that script with my life and why you had to give it back.”

She shrugged and grinned. “That’s no problem. They won’t find anything in my background, and you know how well I keep a secret.”

I nodded and smiled. “We’ve got a lot to do this week,” I said, sighing at the prospect of packing my shit up once again. Granted, I didn’t own very much shit, but what shit I did have had to be boxed up and put in storage, or shipped back to the States in five days.

“Let’s get to it, then,” Bella said energetically. I wished I shared her enthusiasm.

\-------------------------------------

_**Friday, February 13, 2009** _

Our evening out at Groucho’s got off to a pretty normal start. Bella and I arrived at the club in the same taxi. Unnoticed, we were able to slip inside and enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of good music, good beer and pleasant conversation with friends. Bobby’s show was incredible, as I’d known it would be. The disaster came as we were leaving the club at 3 AM. Our luck finally ran out. Groucho’s was a popular celebrity hang-out so naturally the paps were swarming outside the entrance like a pack of hungry wolves. We didn’t even make it through the door.

I was a little drunk and mad as hell. I wasn’t about to take Bella through the gauntlet I’d have to go through just to get into a taxi. We finally decided to split up. I’d go first and get into a taxi alone, and then she’d wait a few minutes and take a separate one behind me. It fucking pissed me off that we couldn’t leave together in peace, and I was sure it showed as the cameras flashed in my face.

I ignored the paps’ ridiculous questions and the taunts they routinely used to try and get a reaction out of me. As soon as I slid inside the cab and closed the door, a guy stuck his camera against the car window and started snapping away. I ignored him, and stared straight ahead, trying to keep from cussing his annoying ass out, or perhaps flipping him off. But, the sad truth was, this was just a small sample of what awaited me in the next couple of weeks. If nothing else, this outing had helped me get my feet wet again in the fucking fish bowl that was my celebrity life.

I was tired of it already.

\------------------------------------------

_**Saturday morning, February 14, 2009 ~ Valentine’s Day** _

I woke up mid-morning to breakfast in bed. Bella had prepared the works: eggs, bacon and pancakes, toast and jam, topped off with juice and coffee.

“What’s all this for?” I asked in astonishment.

She frowned. “Uh, Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh, shit,” I groaned painfully. “Are you serious?? It’s the 14thalready??”

She sighed and shook her head. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” I admitted sheepishly. “But the day’s just begun. We can still do something. What do you want to do? Anything. Just name it.”

“It’s fine,” she said with a small smile, even though I suspected that her feelings were hurt. “It’s no big deal, really. It’s just a stupid holiday that everyone’s been guilted into celebrating. You show someone you love them every day of the year, right? Not just on one stupid day.”

I nodded in complete agreement. She snuggled up beside me in bed and watched while I happily devoured her Valentine’s Day gift. She never even suspected that I’d just lied my ass off about not knowing what day it was.

Damn, but I was one hell of an actor.

\-------------------------------------------

I regularly sing in the shower, which is why I’d had no idea Bella had even been in the bathroom. I towel-dried my hair and grinned at the message written in the moisture on the mirror: _Rob + Bella 4-eva._

I found her in the dining room, at the table, typing away on her computer. “Forever?” I asked, smiling and delivering a tender kiss to the top of her head. “That’s a hell of a long time to put up with my slobby ass.” She laughed and returned her attention to her laptop.

I plopped down on the sofa and snatched up the script. I’d read the thing so many times that I probably could have recited everyone else’s dialogue and shot the whole damn film myself. I flipped to the break-up scene and a piece of paper fell out and into my lap. _You are my life_ was written in Bella’s neat handwriting with a small heart below it.

“You’re trying to make me feel guilty for forgetting, aren’t you?”

She frowned. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, yes you are.” I nodded and grinned knowingly.

She smiled. “I promise you, I’m not.” She returned to her typing.

We worked in companionable silence for the next couple of hours, her on her novel and me on the script, until my head felt ready to explode. “Would you care if I played around on the guitar for awhile?”

She glanced my way and smiled. “That’s fine.”

“It won’t bother you?”

She shook her head and continued typing.

My guitar was propped against the wall near the couch. I reached for it and stopped. A piece of paper was neatly folded and stuck between the strings near the bridge. I plucked it out and unfolded it: _R & B ~ a new and beautiful kind of music._

“R & B. Rob and Bella. I like that.” We smiled and held each other’s eyes. “And you’re definitely making me feel guilty, so here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to find the nicest, ritziest restaurant in Soho and have ourselves a relaxing kick-ass dinner, and then we’re going dancing, even though I look like a stork on crack when I dance. How’s that sound?”

She giggled. “That I have to see.”

\------------------------------------

**~ BELLA ~**

Everywhere we went there were either long lines, an hour wait for a table, or you had to have a reservation. Even the French House, Robert’s favorite restaurant, was booked solid. The ones that were less crowded, he nixed as either having bad food, horrible service or they weren’t romantic enough. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets as we reluctantly headed back to the apartment with empty stomachs.

“Sorry. You have a pathetic boyfriend. I should have made reservations last week.”

Duh.

“I should have gotten you some flowers.”

“Flowers die.”

“Well then, I should have at least gotten you a box of chocolates.”

“Candy makes you fat.”

He sighed again. “You’re mad.”

“No I’m not,” I said defensively. _Yes, I am._ And I hated myself for being upset. I was acting like a spoiled little diva. I had the man, the sex god, THE Robert Pattinson in my bed, for God’s sake, and I was mad because he hadn’t gotten me a stupid Valentine’s Day gift?? When had I gotten so flippin’ shallow?

We walked the rest of the way home in shivering silence. I couldn’t wait to change into some warm clothes. He leaned against the side of the elevator as it crawled its way to the roof. I tried to ignore how gorgeous he looked, even though his jaw was sprinkled with stubble and he was wearing one of those atrocious beanies that covered his beautiful hair. He stared back at me pitifully.

“I should have written you a song.”

“Robert,” I growled. “It’s O…KAY!”

The elevator doors slid open. I was all set to make a bee-line for the apartment when he grabbed my hand. “Let’s look at Soho. The view from up here is amazing.”

“I don’t want to look at Soho,” I said grumpily in between my teeth chattering. “I’m freezing.”

“Aww, come on, Bella,” he begged, grinning crookedly. “We don’t care about the cold. Remember Moulton Falls?”

Okay. He was playing dirty now. Begging. The crooked grin. The thick British accent that melted my panties. And the beautiful, pleading eyes. UGH. It was impossible for me to stay annoyed with him. I sighed. “Okay, just a quick look, and then I’m heading for the apartment and a hot bath.”

He tugged on my hand and pulled my reluctant, grouchy self out of the elevator and around the corner with him. My mouth dropped all the way to the cold, concrete floor of that roof.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bella.”

“Oh,” I squeaked softly as I tried to take it all in. One corner of the rooftop had been completely transformed.

“Robert.” I fought back tears. I didn’t want to cry, but… “Oh, Robert, this is beautiful.” I glanced back at him and he had this smug little smile on his face. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You lying dirty dog. You had me believing you were—” I caught myself just in time.

“—insensitive? Unromantic? A complete dumbass?” he supplied, finishing my sentence.

I laughed and jabbed a finger at him. “Yes! All of that!”

He smiled and enfolded me in his arms. “I can be all of those things, trust me on that. But I wanted our first Valentine’s Day together to be special.”

And special it was. He’d bought a round, wicker outdoor daybed with an arched canopy, and piled it with red and white pillows and soft blankets. Food and drink sat on a large wicker side table beside the bed, along with an oil lamp for lighting. A patio heater provided enough warmth that I actually felt comfortable.

“There’s finger foods in those containers, and hot chocolate in the carafes. I figured the last thing either one of us needed was a hangover, since we’re flying out in the morning.”

I grinned up at him, yanked off my coat and dropped it to the floor, kicked off my shoes and crawled underneath the blankets, beckoning him to join me. In moments, he was snuggling up against me. As we waited for our body heat to warm us, we stared up at the night sky. He’d planned perfectly. The sky was clear and bursting with stars.

“God, I love this city,” he commented softly. “And I love having you in it.”

“I love being here, and with you,” I answered.

We ate all the food, and warmed our insides with hot chocolate. By that time, we’d gotten nice and toasty underneath the blankets, thanks to the heater. Clothes came off and ended up in messy piles beside the bed. We talked. We laughed. He sang to me. We made love.

A perfect ending for our last night in London.

\--------------------------------------

_**Sunday, February 15, 2009** _

**~ ROB ~**

We boarded the plane separately. Her first, and then after a few minutes I boarded, trailing behind a group of sleepy-eyed businessmen. I stowed my carry-on and politely said ‘excuse me’. Bella smiled and twisted her legs to the side so I could squeeze by and reach the window seat. We had a bit of fun pretending we were complete strangers. Anyone who was stupid enough to have been eavesdropping would have wondered who let the idiots out of the madhouse.

“Hi, I’m Robert.” I stuck a hand out in her direction. She was surprised at first, but when she realized what I was doing, she played along.

“Abby,” she said, shaking my hand and smiling.

“So, where you headed?” I asked, fumbling with the controls that allowed the seat to recline.

“LA. Stripper school,” she answered.

I choked back a laugh. “You’re a stripper?”

She nodded and rolled her eyes. “Uh, that’s usually who goes to stripper school. What about you? Where are you headed?”

“Same. LA. I have meetings.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

I unfolded my legs and accidentally kicked the seat in front of me, earning me a turn-around and a glare from its occupant. Like I could help it that my legs were six fucking feet long and the space to put them in was one foot square??!

“I’m big in the porn industry,” I answered, hoping the asshole in front of me was listening. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me? Spunk Ransom? Although, I did do some films a few years ago under the name Dirk Hardon.”

She covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. When she gained her composure, she continued. “Never heard of you. Personally, I’m into femme slash.”

I shot her a confused look, forgetting all about our little juvenile ruse. “Femme slash? What the hell is that?”

She lowered her voice and leaned into me. “Woman-on-woman lemony goodness.”

I was still confused. When had lemons come into this conversation?

“Stories with lesbians getting it on.” She laughed quietly and patted my hand. “We need to have a serious talk about fanfiction, Robert. You need to know.”

I frowned. “What do I need to know?”

As the plane took off, she told me. She filled me in on the whole sordid world of Twilight fanfiction, including the fact that people were writing stories about ME, Robert Pattinson. I already knew about the Edward and Bella stories, but who the fuck would write a story about my boring ass?? And apparently they were full of…lemons??

“People write about me having sex??” I asked in shocked disbelief.

She nodded, grinning.

“With who?” I asked, dumbfounded.

She shrugged. “Whoever. Mostly fan girls, though.”

“Well, damn. Am I good?”

“Fuck yeah, you’re good. In fanfiction _and_ in real life,” she answered, biting her lip and grinning in that seductive way that made my dick throb.

I looked into her eyes, trying to decide if she was pulling my leg. I decided she was. People writing stories about me when they knew absolutely nothing about me was utterly preposterous. She had to be pulling my leg.

\-------------------------------------

Paps were swarming all over LAX, as usual. I donned my hoodie, a pair of sunglasses and prepared to run the gauntlet. Bella surprised me. She was getting good at this shit already. She hung way behind and made her way through the press of people looking like an ordinary tired teenager on her way back from studying abroad. No one would have ever connected us together as a couple.

She only had thirty minutes in between flights. We’d agreed on the plane to head straight for the nearest restrooms, which was the only place we could think of to say goodbye out of the public eye. I dashed through that lobby like the hounds of Hell were on my heels. I doubted they even got a decent picture of me, because I’d perfected walking while looking down at the floor. As clumsy as I was, it was a wonder I hadn’t fallen flat on my ass a hundred times, right in front of their stupid cameras, but I hadn’t… _yet._

The bathrooms were located in an alcove that hid the entrances from the main lobby. I leaned against the wall, hidden from public view, and waited for Bella to find me. The hours on the plane where I’d been unable to touch her or kiss her had been sheer torture for me. How was I going to survive the next few weeks?? People looked at me strangely as they passed in and out of the restrooms. They probably thought I was a serial killer scoping out my prey, when in reality I was just another Joe who was heartsick at the thought of being separated from his girl.

She popped around the corner with a smile. My heart lurched. Yeah, it fucking lurched, and the blood rushed south. I wanted her, but there was no time. Before she could say a word, I pulled her into the men’s bathroom with me.

“Robert!” she squealed, shocked to find that she was now pushed up against the tiled bathroom wall, and that a man was pissing in a urinal across the room.

I silenced her objections with a kiss. I dropped my carry-on to the floor so my hands would be free to bury themselves in her hair. I devoured her mouth, barely letting her come up for air in between the kisses, and oblivious to whoever might be watching.

“God, I’m going to miss you.”

She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed. She was crying, and damn it, I felt like joining her. “It’s just two days,” she said through her tears.

I nodded. “I know. Doesn’t make it any better, though.”

We kissed some more, but it didn’t help get rid of the ache in my chest. I hated this separation shit with the passion. 

“I have to go,” she said sadly.

I sighed and pulled away so she could get her carry-on up onto her shoulder. “I love you.”

She smiled and ran her fingers along my jaw. “I love you, too. See you in two days.”

I nodded and watched her leave, wishing like hell that she didn’t have to. The man who had been at the urinal was now washing his hands in the sink. He glanced at me curiously. I suddenly felt like a complete dumbass.

“I’m sorry about that,” I offered, embarrassed at my behavior now that she was gone. “We sort of needed some privacy.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Don’t ever apologize for being in love. I envy you, man.” He slapped me on the back as he left the room.

_Just two days…_

_\-------------------------------------_

_**Santa Monica, CA ~ Monday, February 17, 2009** _

My alarm bells went off as soon as I walked into the small conference room at Summit. This was supposed to be a pre-production meeting, but no one involved with pre-production was even in attendance. Kris and Taylor should have been here, as well as Chris Weitz. Did somebody forget to send me the memo??

Nothing but PR people ringed the conference table: Cathy, Dave the Prick, and some other PR guy that I didn’t know all that well, along with their three personal assistants. What really disturbed me was who occupied the big, cushy chair at the end of the table: Nancy Kirkpatrick, an attractive blonde who was the head executive in charge of worldwide marketing and publicity. Why was she sitting in on a low-level meeting with _me??_

“Robert, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.” She smiled graciously and offered me her hand. I shook it and murmured an appropriate response. I glanced at Cathy, wondering why she hadn’t given me a heads-up on this meeting, but her face was unreadable. Dave the Prick, however, was looking very satisfied with himself, which worried me.

“What’s this meeting about?” I asked, after we’d all dispensed with pleasantries and were seated.

“We’ve been discussing the marketing and publicity for New Moon,” Ms. Kirkpatrick answered. “A new… _strategy_ …has been put on the table for consideration. We wanted to run it by you, see what you thought about it.”

Cathy had dropped her eyes and was now looking down, scribbling random circles on the blank notepad in front of her. She was uncharacteristically silent.

“What new strategy?”

“We received your request to have a guest on set with you. Isabella Abigail Anderson, I believe is her name?” She looked to me for confirmation. I nodded. “We did the necessary checks and she’s been approved, as long as she agrees to sign the confidentiality agreement.”

“Thank you, and she’ll sign it. No problem.”

I waited a little impatiently for someone at the table to get to the point, so this meeting could conclude and I could get my ass back to the hotel for a nap. My internal clock was shot all to hell and I was dog-tired.

“Robert.” Ms. Kirkpatrick leaned forward in her chair and focused her piercing blue eyes on me. “I’m sure you’re aware of the various methods of marketing a film and promoting the actors involved. I’m not going to go into all of that here, but I just wanted to remind you that we have a very solid plan in place for this franchise, a well-established and well-thought-out strategy for pushing the numbers as high as possible. That’s our job as public relations people.”

Was I supposed to offer an opinion or what? I decided to just nod in agreement.

“There is also a sort of… _informal_ …strategy in place which revolves around the relationship between you and your co-star. Nothing written down, you understand, but it still exists. When media outlets speculate about a romantic relationship between you and Kristen, or directly ask us about it, we’re deliberately evasive. We don’t speak out in outrage when they print what are obviously lies. We tend to allow the fans and their intense interest in the two of you to drive that aspect of the marketing plan.”

My jaw clenched involuntarily. My neck felt hot from the warmth of my rising temper. “Kris and I are not involved outside of work.”

She smiled. I was beginning to dislike that smile of hers. “Of course you aren’t, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that the fans think, or perhaps hope, that you are. It keeps them interested in the films and in you, which in turns keeps the appearance requests rolling in.

“Is this Isabella Abigail Anderson your girlfriend?” she asked abruptly, and somehow I knew that we’d finally arrived at the reason for this strange meeting.

“Does that matter?” I asked.

Ms. Fitzpatrick smiled yet again. “Yes, it does matter.”

I was getting more pissed by the minute. Cathy was still avoiding my eyes and was no help at all. How was I supposed to answer that? I wanted to lie, but realized that would be an incredibly stupid move. These people were my employers and with Bella being on set with me, and possibly even staying with me in some rental somewhere nearby, they were bound to find out eventually.

“Yes, she’s my girlfriend.”

The reaction in the room was almost immediate. Cathy sighed, Dave and the other PR guy were grinning all over themselves, and Ms. Fitzpatrick looked on the verge of having an orgasm.

“Here’s the proposal, a complete shift in strategy that some feel would explode interest in these films and send the numbers through the roof. Start appearing with your girlfriend in public. The Oscars would be the perfect setting to introduce her to the world. It won’t take the newshounds long to discover her first name and then draw the romantic parallels to the saga that will make the fans swoon: Edward found his Bella and now Robert Pattison has found his, only in real life. It’s the perfect fairy tale romance that will drive the fans wild.”

The bitch was actually excited about the idea of fucking up my entire life. My temper exploded. I shot up from the table, knocking my chair to the floor and not giving one big fuck about it. “Absolutely not! You’re not using my private life to push this film! There’s no way in hell I’m exposing her to that! No fucking way!!”

“I’m not sure you have a choice,” she replied smugly. “We were merely seeking your opinion, not your permission.”

They didn’t need anyone’s permission to completely ruin Bella’s life when she had absolutely no stake in this franchise or its success??? “No,” I snarled.

Dave smirked and finally opened his mouth for the first time since the meeting started. “Unless you have one of those nifty invisibility cloaks, it’s going to be pretty hard to keep her hidden from the public.”

I met the eyes of everyone in that room, and except for Cathy, they all said one thing: Bella wasn’t a person, she was a marketing strategy now. I’d pulled her into this mess. It was my fault. But I could remedy that mistake pretty damn fast.

“I quit. Get yourselves another Edward Cullen.”

Ms. Fitzpatrick shot up out of her chair, her blue eyes blazing with anger. “You can’t quit. You have a contract. Summit will sue your ass off, my friend.”

Let ‘em sue. My life was not going to be dictated by a bunch of suits with dollar signs for brains. “Fuck you, and fuck Edward Cullen.” I threw a disgusted look at everyone in the room before stalking out.

I shot down the hall and ignored Cathy’s pleas for me to stop. I jabbed the button on the elevator and was glad to see the doors slide open immediately. I hit the “Door Close” button but not quickly enough. An out-of-breath Cathy managed to squeeze herself inside just before they slid shut.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I just wanted you to know that I argued against this. I argued until I turned blue in the face. I’m against this. I’m completely and totally against this.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of support back there, and thanks for giving me a fucking heads-up on this meeting, too!”

“I was told to keep my mouth shut or start drawing unemployment, and I need this job. I had no choice. What are you going to do?”

“I’m calling my manager and then I’m getting out of this town.”

“Well, don’t tell me where you’re going. Don’t worry about the meeting tomorrow. Just make sure you’re back for the Oscars.”

I laughed in her face. “I won’t be attending the fucking Oscars. I quit, remember?”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “They can’t find another Edward Cullen in two weeks. They’ll have to back down or halt production. I predict they’ll back down.”

I hoped she was right. The elevator doors slid open and I got the hell out of corporate headquarters as fast as I could. I had two very important calls to make, the first one to my manager. I called him in the cab and got his voice mail. I left a detailed message explaining everything, and wondered what his reaction would be when he realized I’d just opened us both up to a lawsuit of major proportions.

Then I called Bella. She picked up on the second ring. “Change of plans. I’m coming up tonight.”

After we disconnected, I shut off my phone. Hell could break loose without Robert Pattinson for a couple of days. I was going to be busy meeting my girlfriend’s family.

\--------------------------------------

**LEAVING THE GROUCHO CLUB WITHOUT BELLA. YEAH, I'M PISSED.**

 

**THE CANOPIED OUTDOOR DAYBED I BOUGHT FOR VALENTINE'S DAY**

 

 


	40. Meet the Andersons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting Quote:
> 
> Interviewer: What do you think of that Team Jacob and Team Edward competition, the T-shirts and…?
> 
> Rob: Well, I was doing a photo shoot the other day where I put on a Team Jacob T-shirt and everybody went crazy. I mean, the photo wasn’t allowed to be released, cause the studio was like, no, you can’t do that! I mean, it’s like, who cares? Jesus. (laughs) It doesn’t matter. I think people were so worried about it.
> 
> ~ from a 2009 interview with Sian Edwards

**~ ROB ~**

_**~ Monday evening, February 17, 2009 ~** _

 

The last time I’d left Vancouver’s snow-capped mountains behind me, I’d pretty much accepted the fact that I’d never see them again, or Bella. And even though we’d been together in London for the past month and a half, I still got this strange feeling of coming full circle the moment the plane’s tires met the tarmac.

It was freezing-ass cold out there beyond the fogged-up glass by my window seat. I rubbed out a circle with my fingers and peered out. The sun was setting in shades of purple, blue and pink as far as the eye could see. Vancouver was a beautiful city, but right at that moment I wasn’t really interested in the scenery. The only attraction it held for me was that it was home to the most important girl in my life. After the shit that had gone down at the PR meeting, I needed ordinary. I needed normal. I needed Bella.

I smiled when I located my ride. She was leaning up against the side of her mom’s Cabriolet, waiting for me. The memories came flooding back at the sight of her, the good along with the bad. I shook my head and pushed away the bad. That was in the past. I’d been lucky enough to be forgiven. It was time to let it go, even though the snow-covered landscape and the towering trees were trying their best to force me to remember.  I slung my backpack over one shoulder and trotted across the asphalt into the welcoming arms of my girl.

“Hey.”

She grinned at hearing my standard Vancouver greeting. “Hey, yourself. You’ve got pink cheeks.”

“And my ass is turning blue. Let’s get in the car where it’s warm.”  A quick, hot kiss and then we both scrambled into the car. The heater blew her hair across my face while I gave her a proper hello kiss.

“Mmmm, you keep that up and we’re going to have to make a pit stop,” she murmured.

“Sounds good to me.” I moaned and gave her lower lip a playful little nip.

She sighed and pulled away. “Mom’s expecting us.”

With a frustrated growl, I collapsed back into my seat. I was nervous about meeting her parents. A little sex would have gone a long way in taking that edge off.  “Shit,” I swore softly. “I’m horny as hell.”

She giggled and glanced down at my crotch. “I can tell.” She snaked a hand across my leg and grabbed my dick. “Yummy.”

“You’re just making it worse.”

“But I’ve missed Oscar,” she whined painfully.

I laughed and regretfully pushed her hand away. “Just drive.”

As soon as she maneuvered the car onto the road, she sighed and glanced my way. “We have just enough time for me to give you some last minute pointers about my family.”

Her mother was the furthest thing from June Cleaver that existed, she said. I had no idea who June Cleaver was, so a few minutes were spent explaining about the television show, Leave it to Beaver, and about how Mrs. Cleaver was the perfect mother and wife. After listening to Bella’s explanation, I realized that my mum wasn’t exactly June Cleaver either. If it wasn’t for Lizzie, we might have all died from food poisoning long ago.

“My mom has this saying: ‘Just because I have a vagina doesn’t mean I’m the only one who can _______’, and then she fills in the blank with whatever. She doesn’t wait on everyone hand-and-foot, so if you run out of milk during dinner, don’t hold your breath waiting for her to get up and refill your glass. You can see the refrigerator and your hand isn’t broken, so you can get it yourself. That’s how she thinks. Oh, and take off your shoes at the door. She even makes the preacher take off his shoes and he’s God’s representative on Earth.”

That could be a problem. I always forgot to take off my shoes at home. Shit.

“And, her home office is right beside the bathroom. Don’t go in there. Just don’t. Don’t even open the door and peek in.”

“Why?"

She sighed helplessly. “It’s her inner sanctum, her Holiest of Holies, her temple, her altar to…uhm…you know…Robert Pattinson. Just don’t go in there. It’s ten times worse than my room was at the Fosters. She has the cardboard cut-out right beside of her computer and pictures all over the wall. It’s creepy. She’s too old for that shit. It’s just creepy.”

Damn. What was I getting myself into?

“Oh, and one last thing.” She reached over nonchalantly and turned off the heater as she delivered her last tip. “Don’t say anything nice about Jacob.”

“Jacob? Jacob who??” And then as soon as I’d said it, the light bulb turned on.

She laughed. “Jacob Black! What other Jacob do you know? She despises Jacob and all of the wolves, so don’t even bring them up.”

This conversation was moving into weird territory. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” she insisted. “You’re not going to believe this, but my mom actually got into an argument on the internet with a bunch of Team Wolf women.” She looked my way and rolled her eyes. “They were fighting over who Bella should have chosen. They were trashing Edward and she was defending him. I’ve never in my life seen grown-assed women act like that. _I’m_ more mature than they are. They were calling each other names like middle school kids, all over fictional characters. Of course, I love Edward, but I’m not going to show my ass on the internet like that just to prove a point. My mom is seriously in danger of losing her sanity. I’m worried about her.” She chuckled in an attempt to soften the criticism of her mother, but I still wondered how a grown woman could become so obsessed with a book. None of it made any sense to me.

I frowned at her, and stated the obvious. “They do realize that it doesn’t matter who Bella chose because she’s not real, right?”

She laughed. “You would think. Now, on to my dad. He’s all bark and no bite. We don’t pay any attention to half of what he says, especially when he’s complaining about Twilight. Mom wears the pants in the family and Dad minds well. Oh, and he doesn’t like you that much, just thought you should know, in case he says something improper. Just ignore whatever he says. He’s just jealous because mom is obsessing over you.”

 _Holy shit_. The big guy hated me. That was one major strike against me and I hadn’t even set foot in their front door. If there was one positive thing in all of this it was that Bella’s commentary had completely deflated my boner. I was so nervous that I couldn’t have gotten it up if I’d had to.

“And he’s a gun nut.”

I cursed and raked my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know anything about guns.”

“Just smile and nod. Hold one if he offers it to you and act like the feel of that cold steel in your hand is giving you the biggest O of your life. He’ll like that.”

That struck me as funny. I horse-laughed at the thought of me even holding a gun, let alone acting like it was as good as sex. We hadn’t owned any guns at the Pattinson house. I was in virgin territory and growing even more worried as we got closer to their house.

“And Alex. He’s only sixteen, so take that into consideration. He hates Twilight. He calls it ‘Twinkles’ and insists that Edward is gay. Him and mom have had some interesting fights since this all started.”

Finally, something I could relate to. “I have a twelve-year-old cousin, Meredith, who says Edward is a faggot, so I’m used to that.”

“Alex will call Edward a ‘Twinkie Boy’ and then mom gets all mad and grounds him for being disrespectful to Edward and gay people in general. Then he runs and tattles to dad who un-grounds him for ‘having some intelligence’, as he says.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I told you. My family is seriously deranged.”

Bella pulled into a paved driveway and cut the engine. I suddenly had a very disturbing thought just as I opened the car door. “Will she grab my ass?”

Bella sighed. “She might. I can’t make any guarantees.”

“What should I do if she does?” I asked, horrified at how calmly she was taking the idea of her mother feeling up her boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, sighing again. “Got any ideas?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing helpful came out of it. “Uh…no.”

She shook her head and got out of the car. I followed along behind her, not even taking the time to notice my surroundings. We walked the short distance from the car to the porch, up the steps and finally to the front door. It loomed over me like a guillotine. We stood there staring at the ornate brass knocker in uncertain silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For everything that’s about to happen on the other side of that door.”

_Oh fuck…_

 

********************************

 

“Mom! We’re here!” Bella shouted, closing the front door behind us.

With a hand on the wall for balance, I started prying off my shoes.

“Don’t you dare take off those shoes!”

I looked up and there was Bella’s mom at the top of the steps. Jesus Christ, but she was beautiful! It wasn’t hard to see where Bella got her looks. Her shoulder length hair was the same color as Bella’s, and looked just as silky. Their features were so much alike: the fair complexion, the full lips and even the mischievous look on her face. She was short and slender, just like her daughter. It was like gazing into a mirror to the future and seeing what Bella would look like thirty years from now. _Not bad…_

I glanced beside me and Bella’s mouth was agape. “I guess God’s representative’s got nothing on me, huh?” I murmured, snickering.

“She’s just being nice,” Bella hissed softly. “Take them off anyway.” I did, just to be polite. Her mom didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh my God, it is so nice to meet you.” Her mom bounced gracefully down the steps and stuck her hand out. I smiled politely and took it.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Anderson.”

“Leslie,” she corrected me, as she shook my hand. And shook it. And shook it. And shook it. I wanted my hand back. It was going on much too long. Then suddenly she stopped shaking it and began tenderly rubbing the top of my hand and stroking my fingers. _Oh shit…_

She sighed. “Your hands are so much more beautiful in person than they are in pictures. They’re so soft.”

I tried to pull my hand away, but she held on. “I have girl hands.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “You used to be a hand model. They’re just so soft and beaut—“

“MOM!” Bella had had enough. I was grateful.

Leslie dropped my hand like it was on fire. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I have some refreshments in the kitchen. Dinner isn’t for a couple of hours, but I thought you might be hungry after that plane ride.”

I glanced at Bella and raised an eyebrow. Leslie sounded a lot like June Cleaver to me. “Actually, I need the restroom first.”

We marched up the steps, Leslie in the lead, me in the middle and Bella right behind me. I tried not to notice that her mom had a very nice ass, for an older chick.

When we reached the stairs, they went to the right and I went to the left down a short hallway. I found the bathroom with no problem. While I was emptying two hours worth of airplane-riding piss into the toilet, I took a look around the small room. No Twilight towels. No Edward curtains. Just a normal bathroom.

On the way back up the hall, I passed a closed door. Remembering our conversation in the car about her mom’s office, I stopped, stared at the doorknob and I knew that I was going to look inside, even though Bella had warned me not to. With a quick glance to make sure no one was around, I very quietly tested the door. It wasn’t locked, so I opened it and peeked in. No Edward cardboard cut-out. No Robert Pattinson staring back at me from every wall. It was just a normal office: a computer, chair, files, paneled walls and beige carpeting. I was beginning to wonder if Bella was just messing with my head for the fun of it. Aside from her obsession with my hands, her mother seemed like a nice, normal person.

I passed on the refreshments, opting instead to wait until dinner. We migrated into the living room for some small talk. Bella and I chose the loveseat and her mom sat adjacent to us in a winged back chair. We discussed London, my family, had some general conversation about New Moon, and of course, talked about the weather. After a few minutes, I felt the tension melt away. Bella’s mom was nothing like she’d described. She was nice, and I was suddenly feeling very mellow. Without even thinking, I propped my feet up on the coffee table, as was my habit when I was relaxing at home.

“You have a hole in your sock,” Leslie pointed out.

I glanced down at my foot and sure enough, my big toe was sticking out of my right sock. I snickered. “Yeah, I know. These were the only two I could find that matched.”

Bella sighed. I wondered why until I realized her mom was glaring at her.

“You should sew that hole, and make sure he has matching socks.”

Bella glared back. “He’s a big boy, mom. His hands aren’t broken. He can sew his own socks and keep up with their mates. At least, that’s what you tell Dad.”

“Your Dad’s different. He’s not as busy as Rob.” She turned her attention to me. “I’m sure you don’t have time to worry about mismatched, holey socks, with your busy schedule. Am I right?”

Oh hell. I was not going to get caught in the middle of a mom/daughter fight. I shrugged. “Actually, I just go buy new ones.”

Bella piped in, “He’s filthy, stinking rich. He can afford new socks, Mom.”

I grinned at Bella and then smirked at her mom. “What she said.”

Leslie shifted her eyes from me to Bella and then back to me. She finally laughed and shook her head. “You’re right. I’m being silly. Sometimes the domestic goddess inside of me just slips out.”

“What the fuck?” Bella’s whispered curse beneath her breath had me fighting not to laugh.

“I’m sure Robert’s tired from his flight,” Bella said in a loud voice, already getting up and tugging me with her. “He can catch a power nap before dinner…in _my_ room.”  Looks were exchanged between mother and daughter while I watched helplessly.  “And I’m not leaving the door open,” Bella announced stubbornly.

Leslie winked at me and smiled. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just tried to look amused without coming across as a smug, horny bastard with clothes.

“I’ll come and get you when dinner is ready,” Leslie said, still smiling.

Bella was pulling me towards the stairs. “And you’ll knock first!” she tossed over her shoulder as we started down the steps.

“Of course I’ll knock first!” Leslie’s distant voice rang down the paneled walls of the stairwell. “What do you think I am? Some kind of pervert?” Her laughter followed us down the stairs.

========================

  
**~ Bella’s Room ~**

“What do you think I am some kind of pervert?” Bella was pacing the floor of her small bedroom and imitating her mother in a not-nice way. “That’s exactly what she is!” She stopped pacing and stared down at me.

I hadn’t even thought of taking a nap, but now that I was stretched out on her bed, the idea was gaining ground. “She seems nice,” I observed, fighting the urge to close my eyes.

“She’s not acting right. Domestic goddess, my ass. My mother is the farthest thing from a ‘domestic goddess’ that exists,” Bella insisted, her lips drawn together in a tight line. “And she drools over your pictures like some horny teenager. I swear to God, if she touches you, I’m going to kick her ass. I don’t care if she is my mother.”

I frowned and reluctantly propped my body up on my elbows, wondering what had happened to the sweet and humble girl I’d fallen in love with. “Bella, stop. You’re over-reacting. She hasn’t even done anything except rub my hands. She’s nice.” I patted the bed. “Lay down with me. That nap is sounding pretty good right now, and it would be better with you here.”

“She’s not nice. Didn’t you see the way she was looking at you that whole time we were talking?? She was mentally undressing you.”

My mouth dropped open. “She was?” And then that stupid, hot blush crept up my neck and spread over my face. I frowned, thinking back over the whole conversation. I hadn’t noticed anything inappropriate. No sexual innuendo or flirty looks. Bella was definitely over-reacting. _Must be a mother/daughter rivalry thing._ “You think my big toe turned her on?” I snickered, but Bella was not amused. Didn’t even crack a smile.   _Okay, this is getting ridiculous._ “You’re not going to fight with your mother. I’m going to take a nap. And you’re lying down with me,” I ordered.

I gave her my no-nonsense look and patted the bed. She sighed and surrendered, sinking down onto the mattress and snuggling up against me. I snaked my arm around behind her and tucked her against my side, tight and warm. With another deep sigh, she relaxed.

Bella’s mother was the least of my worries at the moment. As my eyes grew heavy and the world around me started to subside, I wondered where I was going to find the courage to tell her that I’d walked away from my responsibilities, that I’d turned my back on Summit and Edward Cullen, and I’d done it for her. I knew she was going to be angry with me. What I didn’t know was how angry.

==========================

**~ Alex ~**

I woke up to an empty bed and a note. Bella had gone upstairs to help her mother with dinner while I slept. That sounded promising that there wouldn’t be any ass-kicking anytime soon.

On the way up the stairs, I met Bella’s brother coming down. He stopped and stared, and I could tell he was trying to put a name with the face.

“I know you,” he said, frowning. I opened my mouth to tell him my name but he stopped me. “No! Don’t tell me. I’ve almost got it. Hold on…”

He was tall, lanky and blonde (?), with vibrant blue eyes. Leslie must have gotten frisky with the postman, because he didn’t resemble Bella at all.

“Damn,” he cursed softly. “Give me a hint.”

I grinned. “Gay, sparkly vampire?”

He laughed and his whole face lit up. He was as handsome as his mother and sister were beautiful. Not that I was noticing or anything. I didn’t play for that team.

“So, you’re ‘Twinkie Boy’. Mom calls you ‘SmexyRPattz’ and dad calls you a skinny weirdo who wears lipstick.”

RPattz? I’d never heard that nickname before. I could deal with ‘skinny weirdo’ because I was skinny, and I could definitely be weird when the situation called for it, and sometimes when it didn’t. But RPattz? That sounded ridiculous.  “I’m just Rob,” I said, politely taking his hand. We shook briefly. “And they forced me to wear the lipstick.”

He grinned. “Have you met Dad?”

“Not yet.”

He smirked and nodded knowingly. “Good luck with that, dude.”

And with that wonderfully supportive comment, he bounded down the remaining stairs, leaving me wondering if I was going to survive the rest of the night.

=======================

**~ Dinner ~**

Dinner started out nice and normal: passing the mashed potatoes, passing the rolls, everyone busy salting and peppering and savoring those first few mouthfuls of food. Unlike my mum, Leslie was a good cook. Maybe she did have a domestic goddess inside of her after all, and Bella was just in denial.

Conversation was light, and nowhere near the train wreck that usually occurred at the Pattinson dinner table, especially if Mum’s relatives were in attendance. I asked about Leslie’s work and several minutes were passed discussing marketing and what her job responsibilities were. Bella sat across from me and looked on edge, her eyes darting from me to her mom, like she was monitoring every word, every glance. She really was over-reacting. Her family was as normal as mine, if you could call anyone’s family normal.

Her father, or Bruce, as he’d introduced himself, was quiet during dinner, but I felt his eyes on me more than once. I was used to people staring at me, sort of. I was even getting better at ignoring it, although the smaller, intimate setting of a dining room was making it a little harder to do.

“What’s Taylor Lautner like?” All eyes turned to Alex as he abruptly steered the conversation away from what he probably perceived as boring adult topics. “He seems cool. Very athletic and ripped. I think I’m going to like the wolves in this story a lot better than those gay vampires.”

I glanced at Bella. Her eyes were narrowed, and I suspected she was planning unpleasant things to do to Alex after dinner. Leslie wasn’t much better. She was glaring at her son across the table. Bruce was doing exactly what my dad would have done: he was eating with his head down and minding his own business.

“He’s a good kid,” I answered earnestly. “A hard worker and very dedicated to his craft.”

“I read about what he had to do to get them to hire him for New Moon. He gained thirty pounds, worked out all the time, and ate like every two hours.” Alex shook his head in teenage admiration. “That guy rocks.”

“He was very determined,” I said, nodding. “We were all rooting for him.”

“He’s going to be an amazing Jacob. It’s about time Edward got some competition,” Alex attested. “I may just have to break down and go see this one at the theater.”

It didn’t escape my attention that Alex was completely ignoring his mother’s warning glares from the opposite end of the table.

“You’ll probably like this one better,” I offered, chuckling. “I won’t be in it much.”

“That’s good, because the first one was way too twinkly and glittery for me.”

“Alex.” Leslie’s low, ominous warning drifted down the table. “How many times have I explained this to you? Vampires don’t glitter. Their skin hardens when they change and it takes on a crystalline appearance. No one shook a can of glitter over them.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“I wore a Team Jacob shirt to a photo shoot once,” I interjected innocently.

Bella’s mouth dropped open. Leslie looked shocked. Alex was grinning for all he was worth. Bruce was eating happily.

Leslie frowned and dropped her fork onto her plate. “Why would you do something like that?”

All eyes were on me, waiting for my profound answer.  I shrugged. “I wanted to see everyone’s reaction.”

I gave Bella just the tiniest hint of a grin across the table. A smile slowly spread across her face. She knew I was teasing her mother, and she approved.

“Well, how did they react?” Leslie’s voice was cool and politely controlled. Bella was squirming in her seat and trying not to laugh.

“I think the PR staff shit their pants,” I answered, snickering at the memory of that day. The rest of the cast who’d been there had thought it was funny as hell. Summit had not been amused.  “I was told very sternly that you did not do such things. The Team Jacob/Team Edward stuff was serious business and that it was highly unprofessional of me to behave that way. I did one picture with the shirt on, but they refused to publish it. It was really ridiculous, considering this is just a book and these characters aren’t real.”

“It’s not just a book,” Leslie said stubbornly, directing her gaze and her comment squarely at me. “And these characters are as real to me as if they live right down the street. Their stories are real. Their lives are real. Their pain. Their happiness. Their love. It’s all real to me, and not just to me. It’s real to thousands and thousands of fans all over the world. You, of all people, shouldn’t make fun of it.”

It was at that point that I realized my humor had fallen flat and that I’d seriously pissed off Bella’s mom. I felt really bad.  “I wasn’t making fun of it. I was having fun. Two different things,” I said softly. “This job is stressful. I was tired. Photo shoots are a pain in the ass. I was just trying to lighten things up, for myself and for the rest of the crew. I never meant to offend anyone.” I shrugged. “I just thought it was funny.”

“You’re all right.” Alex grinned and nodded his approval.

I acknowledged him with a nod and then turned back to Leslie. “I would never make fun of Twilight. How ungrateful would I be to do that? I’m working. I’m getting more scripts to read and job offers than I can handle. I would never bite the hand that feeds me. Abby told me you didn’t like Jacob, so I was just teasing you a little. I apologize if I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

I swept a quick glance over the table. Bella was looking back at me with admiration and love. Alex was studying me, still nodding in approval. Bella’s dad was watching me, too. He didn’t look like he wanted to kill me for upsetting his wife, so I must have done something right.

Leslie sat back in her chair and sighed. “No, don’t apologize. It’s me who owes you an apology for being rude and way too sensitive. I’m sorry.”

Shocked looks were in great supply all around the table. I got the idea that her backing down from any Twilight disagreement was something that didn’t happen very often. I felt I owed her one for that, since I’d been the one who'd started it. I flipped on my Edward Cullen switch as easily as turning on a light and leaned closer to her, my gaze holding hers.

“So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?” I asked in Edward’s soft, smooth voice.

She gasped. “Oh my God.” She clasped both of her hands over her mouth in shock. When she finally dropped them, she was smiling brilliantly. “That was Edward! How did you do that? One minute you were Rob and the next you were him.”

I shrugged and gave her my best crooked smile. “I’m an actor?”

“Thank you. Thank you so much for that,” she said, still smiling and looking very flustered. “Well…I have dessert. Would you like some?”

“Ah, no thank you. I’m on a diet for New Moon. You know, that big reveal scene in Italy.”

She waved her hand in front of her face like a fan. “Whew, I know. Is it hot in here or is it just me? I cannot wait to see you shirtless! Have you been working out?”

“Mommmm!” Bella growled.

Then Bella’s dad spoke up for the first time since dinner had started. “I think I’ll skip dessert, too, and take Rob downstairs for awhile.”

Bella’s eyes flicked sharply to mine. Oh fuck. That sounded ominous. What was downstairs??

Leslie glared at her husband.  “Be nice, Bruce.”

\---------------------------------------

**~ Downstairs ~**

‘Downstairs’ was actually a bedroom that had been turned into a man-den. A brown leather sofa and matching chairs hugged one wall opposite a huge television. Pictures of hunters, fishermen and guns lined the paneled walls. A large, black, bulky monstrosity hugged another wall: a gun safe, which now stood open revealing a neatly arranged row of firearms.

“Do you know what this is?” Bruce asked, holding out a gun in both of his hands for my perusal.

“A gun,” I answered, and added a mental ‘duh’ just for my own smug satisfaction. I wasn’t a complete idiot.

“This is a gun like the Hope Diamond is a rock,” he said, chuckling. “This gun is a semi-automatic assault rifle. A Kalashnikov, or AK-47 as it’s most commonly known.”

“Aaah,” I said stupidly. I nodded like I knew exactly what he was talking about. “An AK-47.”

“Do you own a weapon, Rob?”

“No.”

“Don’t you think you need one? Celebrities make excellent targets.”

Shit. I really wished he hadn’t brought that up. I was paranoid enough without imagining thirteen year old girls with AK-47s stalking my ass across the country waiting for the perfect shot.  “I have a bodyguard who takes care of that.” Dean was one hellacious chunk of muscle. I had supreme confidence in his ability to protect my pussy ass.

“Does he carry concealed? Wear body armor?” Bruce asked, and there was actual concern in his eyes. He wasn’t just messing with me. I believed that the man might have actually cared.

“I’ve never seen him carry a gun, but I probably wasn’t paying attention. I don’t know about the body armor,” I admitted. I was as clueless as clueless could get, apparently. I’d have to have a long talk with Dean when I got back. Then I remembered that I might not even have a job when I got back and this would all be a moot point anyway.

“Of course, he wouldn’t be carrying one of these.” He laughed. “These were designed for combat. You can throw this mother down in the mud, water and even below-zero temps, and then pick it right back up and shoot the asses off your enemy like it was new-out-of-the-box. Don’t have to disassemble it and clean it or anything. It’s the best military firearm out there for killing en masse. Not that great at long-range sniping, but get a whole company of grunts shooting these things and you can do some major damage.”

Killing en masse??? I took a mental step back from this situation and wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into here. Was this man insane? Was he telling me all of this to scare me? Intimidate me? Get me to run the other direction as fast I could and never look back?? Was this his subtle way of telling me he didn’t approve of me dating his daughter??

“I’ll remember that the next time I need to clear a traffic jam in LA,” I said, chuckling, and hiding my nervousness pretty damned well, all at the same time.

I was relieved when he laughed with me. Maybe he was just messing with my head after all.

“Here. Hold it.”

I didn’t know shit about guns, but I instinctively knew how to hold it. Maybe it was from watching so many movies as a kid. Whatever it was, I gripped the wooden stock in my right hand, and balanced the other wooden hand guard in my left, raising the butt to my shoulder. I sighted it against the far wall on an imaginary target. Dave the Prick came to mind.

“Not too bad for a guy who hails from a country with the strictest gun control laws in the world,” he observed, chuckling.

Okay. I wasn’t on the verge of having an orgasm, but I had to admit to myself that I felt pretty fucking manly holding that assault rifle. Even though I had no idea in hell how to load it or shoot it, I was pretty confident that I looked extremely bad-ass just holding that mother.

“Your bodyguard probably carries a Glock 17 or something similar,” Bruce said, as I handed the rifle back to him. “Like this one.”

He pulled a small, black handgun out of the safe and presented it to me, handle first. After the AK-47, this thing felt like a toy.

“Wow, it’s light.”

“It’s a ‘plastic’ weapon. Polymer. It weighs in at only 625 grams,” he said proudly, like he was bragging about his newborn son or something. “It’s one of the most commonly carried law enforcement weapons in the world.”

I extended my arm and aimed the small hunk of deadly plastic at the far wall, imagining myself pulling the trigger and blowing my make-believe target to Kingdom Come. Bad-ass. Now all I needed was a good script that called for me to tote a gun around and look gangster while doing it.

“That’s a nice weapon,” I said, passing the Glock back to him.

He smiled and I sighed with relief at apparently passing my first test with Bella’s dad.  He very carefully replaced the Glock in the safe and swung the massive door shut, spinning the combination lock several times to secure it.

“So, what are you doing slumming up here in Vancouver with my daughter?” he asked just as calmly as you please.

“Slumming?” I repeated the word, thinking perhaps I’d misunderstood his meaning.

“That’s right. Slumming,” he answered. “You’re rich, famous and have beautiful women falling all over you everywhere you go, and yet you focus your attention on an eighteen year old girl from the middle of nowhere. What’s the deal?”

And so all that previous male bonding went right down the drain. My temper flared to life at the implication behind his calm observation.  “I don’t consider my seeing Abby to be ‘slumming’. Dating some shallow Hollywood starlet is slumming. Your daughter is nothing like that. She’s mature, responsible, talented, grounded in reality, and focused on what she wants. She’s real, not fake, and that’s what I like about her. That’s the deal,” I replied bluntly, not even bothering to hide how angry I was at his remark.

“What are your intentions, then?” he asked, and again his voice was calm. “Are you going to marry her? Or are you just going to drag her around with you all over the place instead of letting her stay here and go to college like she should?”

“We’re not talking marriage right now,” I said, struggling to keep my anger at bay and my voice as calm as his. “I can’t even get a dog at this point in my life. I’m never in one place long enough to commit to anything like that. She knows that. It was her idea to travel with me, not mine, and we’ve talked about all of this, Mr. Anderson…at length. She knows what she’s getting into. And just for the record, I’m going to make sure she pursues her education. She told me she can take courses online if she chooses to travel with me. I’ll pay for everything and get her anything she needs to do that. You don’t have to worry about her future if she’s with me.”

He studied me, probably weighing my sincerity with his obvious stereotypical view of movie stars. Not all of us were shallow and self-serving divas who fucked a different groupie every night of the week.

“I don’t do the Hollywood scene,” I assured him. “I avoid that whole sordidness. I have my own group of friends that I’ve known since childhood and my family, who are very involved in my life and supportive of me. Abby fits into my life like she was born there. What I feel for her is nothing like what you’re implying. I love her,” I said simply.

“She’s too young to know what she wants,” he said quietly.

“Maybe so,” I acknowledged. “But she not too young to explore all of the possibilities. I can open doors for her that aren’t even available to her in Vancouver. Think about that. She’s a talented writer. I meet people like that every day. After she gets her college degree, I can connect her with the right people and get her started doing what she loves. So being with me isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

He considered me with his piercing light eyes. I guess Leslie hadn’t fucked the postman after all. Alex had taken after his dad, in looks, if not in temperament. Falling under the scrutiny of Bruce’s eyes wasn’t a pleasant experience, but I refused to look away. I wasn’t perfect, but by God, I wasn’t a loser either. Bella and I were good together, no matter what anyone thought.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, still scrutinizing me, like he could see inside my soul if he stared hard enough.

“You have to protect her,” he said quietly. “Don’t let her get hurt. Don’t let her get lost in the madness of all of this. Believe it or not, I listen when my wife talks. I only tune out the silly Twilight nonsense, but when she talks about our daughter’s safety, I listen, and I listen closely. She’s worried about the press finding out about Abby, about her ability to live a normal life if you let that happen. Neither one of us wants to see that. You have to give me your word that you’ll protect her from all of that.”

“Then we see eye-to-eye, Mr. Anderson. Keeping that part of my life private has always been my intention. I chose to live in a fishbowl by going into acting, but she didn’t. I won’t allow her to be dragged into the limelight. I promise you that, sir.”

He nodded solemnly, and then clapped his hand hard on my shoulder. “I think I was wrong about you. You’re not a bad guy. You’ll do fine for my little girl.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, time for this old man to hit the bed. It was a pleasure talking with you, Rob.” He turned to leave, but then stopped and looked at me over his shoulder. “Oh, and you really need to speak with your bodyguards when you get back to LA. Educate yourself about the level of protection surrounding you. Remember, my daughter is in your care, too. There’s much more at stake now than just your weird, skinny ass.” He grinned and I knew I’d passed inspection with flying colors.

“By the way, they forced me to wear that lipstick.”

He laughed shortly. “I figured that. But it makes Leslie mad when I say it, and poking fun at her little obsession just amuses the hell out of me.”

He turned and started up the stairs. I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. Bruce wasn’t a bad guy, either, and it felt good to have his approval.

\------------------------------------------------

  
**~ Bella’s Room ~**

“OMG, you survived!” Bella exclaimed softly, and then yanked me through the doorway and into her room, slamming it shut behind us.

I laughed at her theatrics. “It wasn’t that bad. He showed me his guns, I drooled over them like you told me to, we talked and he said I was an okay guy.” I shrugged. “Your family isn’t deranged.”

“He said you were an ‘okay guy’? Are you serious??”

I nodded. “He likes me now.”

I watched in amusement as she processed that unexpected information. Then her face lit up and she threw her arms around my neck, jumping up and down and giggling. “That means they’re going to let me go with you to Canada!” She squealed softly and then did a little dance all around the room. It made me smile to see her so happy.

She finally collapsed onto the bed. “I’m eighteen and technically didn’t need their approval, but I wanted it. That just makes it all seem right, you know?”

I was proud of her for wanting her parents’ approval and for respecting their concerns. She was a very special person, and I planned on living up to every one of the promises I’d made to her father.  “So, where am I sleeping?”

Her eyebrows rose and she gave me a ‘duh’ look. “You’re sleeping here with me.”

“Uhm, do the parents approve of that?”

“Trust me, if they objected, we would have heard about it by now. You’re sleeping right here in this bed with me,  _all_  night.”

I scratched my head and wondered what had happened to her sanity. There was no way in hell I could sleep beside her in that small bed without letting Oscar out to play.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I snickered and winked. “You scream a lot. You’ll wake up everyone in the house.”

“I do not scream,” she insisted hotly in a low voice.

I grinned. “Yes, you do.”

Her mouth tightened as she glared at me. “Well, you make these loud and weird grunting noises. Uhn. Uhn. Uhn. Uhn.”

I smirked at her arrogantly. “Try again, because I know I sound sexier than that.”

She bit her lip. I really wished she hadn’t done that.

“Tomorrow, we’ll sneak off to the Fosters. I can scream and you can grunt to your heart’s content and no one will hear.” She grinned mischievously. “How’s that sound?”

I did a little lip biting of my own. “That sounds like one hell of a plan to me.”

 

**BELLA's HOUSE**

 

 


	41. My Normal

**~ ROB ~**

_**~ Early Tuesday morning, February 18, 2009 – 1:12 AM ~** _

****

I didn’t need some computer generated schedule from Summit to tell me that my life was about to twist itself all up into something unrecognizable again. My body did that for me quite well. All it had taken was one trip across the Atlantic to fuck up my internal clock, and that was only the beginning. The worst was yet to come. The nap earlier had been a mistake. I was now lying beside a peacefully sleeping Bella, staring wide-awake at the ceiling and trying not to fidget.

I needed a smoke. Bad.

I gingerly crawled from beneath the blankets, shucked on my jeans and a shirt, made sure I had a fag and a lighter stashed away somewhere in one of my pockets, grabbed my coat, and then snuck quietly out of the room. The house was dark except for a dim pool of light that filtered down the stairs from the second floor—probably a night light. I shoved my bare feet into my shoes, very quietly unlocked the front door and slipped out. It was freezing cold, but the part of me that was screaming for nicotine didn’t give one big fuck. I leaned against the siding, lit up and let the drug do its thing.

Freezing my ass off was bad enough, but feeling essentially blind while doing it creeped me out. Vancouver was as dark as the inside of a cave. I was used to the lights of a big city. It was unnerving to look out into the inky blackness and see nothing. I just hoped that whatever was out there moving among the tall trees couldn’t see me either. As I puffed away, I wondered what the record speed was for smoking a cigarette. Whatever it was, I was about to break it.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I jumped out of my skin and cursed at the sound of a disembodied voice where none should be. I looked to the left, and Leslie’s face was poked out of the front door and she was scowling at me.

“I’m smoking.” _Duh._ _And freezing my balls off and creeping myself out._

An arm reached out, plucked at my coat sleeve, and yanked. “Get in this house.”

I allowed myself to be dragged inside, but not before flicking my cigarette out into the snow. The warmth of the house seeped into my clothes, driving away my shivers. The light filtering down from the upstairs chased away my silly fear of the darkness outside.

“What are you doing going outside to smoke?” she asked, frowning as she helped me off with my coat. “You could have done that in here, for pity’s sake.”

I was aware that a lot of people didn’t like smokers these days, or the smell that came along with us. I tried not to smoke around others who obviously didn’t have the habit, I explained. She clucked and dismissed my explanation and assured me that I could do whatever I wanted in their home, including smoking, and to let her know if anyone said otherwise. I was a guest, and guests were not supposed to be smoking outside in the freezing cold like they were pariahs or something.

“Let’s go up into the kitchen and I’ll fix you something hot to warm up those insides.”

Without waiting for a response, she took to the stairs. I followed her, because I wasn’t sure what the consequences would be if I didn’t. Bella’s mom had a forceful, bossy side which made me wonder if that was why her husband kept a safe full of guns downstairs. It was a balance of power thing.

The pool of light that I’d seen earlier was from the light above the stove. Just the sight of that warm glow spreading over the room brought back memories of my home and my family. _Damn._ I missed them already, especially my mum and her late night conversations over tea. It was a little absurd for a guy my age to be so attached to his mum, but I couldn’t help it. My family was the one thing I could always count on when the rest of my life got twisted around into knots. They always knew how to unravel them and straighten out the kinks. It was so easy to stay on track and grounded while I was in London. It was the rest of the world that seemed to keep me off-balance. Then I thought about the sweet girl sleeping downstairs and I smiled. She was quickly becoming the counter-weight in my life that I needed, that I _wanted._ I realized that I felt as steady with her around as I did when I was with my family.

“What’s that smile for?” Leslie asked as she moved quietly about the kitchen gathering the things she needed.

I thought about being evasive, but it was impossible. I’d been indoctrinated since childhood to spill my guts to anyone, especially a female, who took me into a warm, cozy kitchen and fixed me something hot to drink.

“For your daughter,” I answered softly. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have her in my life right now. In the middle of all this craziness, she keeps me sane.”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me, her features softening. “That’s so sweet.”

“I don’t know if it’s sweet or not, but it’s definitely selfish,” I admitted. “I know your husband would rather her stay here and go to college, and if I were to be honest, that’s probably what she should do, but I’m selfish when it comes to her. I want her with me, and I didn’t try very hard to talk her out of it when she suggested she tag along.”

“I wouldn’t call that selfishness,” she said, chuckling, and then changed the subject. “I just wanted you to know that I tried really hard to learn how to make tea. As soon as Abby told me when you guys would be back stateside, I started practicing. I wanted to make you the perfect pot of PG Tips, but every single time it ended up tasting like brown dishwater.” She sighed. “So, you’re getting hot chocolate instead.”

“That’ll work.”

She sat two steaming mugs on the table, and sat down adjacent to me.

“I have some ‘flavor enhancer’ to go in that, if you want.” She winked. “Vodka. Tequila. Rum. Schnapps.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked at Leslie in an entirely new light. She was speaking my language now, and her fluency was fucking impressive.  “I’m partial to Tequila.”

She grinned and retrieved a bottle from a cabinet along with two shot glasses. “Just in case you’d rather have it on the side.”

I drank a little of the hot chocolate and then pointed a finger at one of the shot glasses. “Three is my limit.”

She smirked. “Just three?? From what I’ve seen on the Internet, three just gets you warmed up.”

Boy, did that make me feel ashamed. It was embarrassing to know that my girl’s parents had seen all of my dirty laundry before they’d even met me. But of course, I shouldn’t have been surprised. If I even farted these days, it ended up on some website by morning.  “I’m trying to clean up my act a little.”

She smiled and nodded in approval. “But, I’m not. So, let’s make it two for you, and three for me.”

I grinned and drank some of the hot chocolate. She did the same and then we both downed our first shot together.

“Eww,” she said, chuckling softly. “Tequila and hot chocolate don’t go together that well, do they?” She slowly slid the steaming mug away from her and focused on the shot glass. I wondered about the wisdom of that, but kept my opinion to myself.

I snickered and poured my second and last shot. “I always considered Tequila to be like the color black. It goes with everything.”

She laughed and scooted her shot glass in my direction for a refill. I poured for her and threw back my last one. It went down like a dream and warmed up my insides quite nicely.

“I hope Bruce was nice to you,” she said, after drinking down her second shot. “He wouldn’t tell me everything that you two talked about. Please tell me he wasn’t rude.”

I shook my head. “Not at all. He was just doing what a father is supposed to do: making sure his little girl is going to be safe. I promised him I’d keep her out of the spotlight and protect her from the paparazzi.”

She nodded, relieved. “That’s good. That’s what we were most worried about. I’ve seen videos of your appearances. They’re scary, and the paps are just downright despicable.”

I agreed with her. I sometimes wondered what led people to a career where harassing others and invading their privacy was considered a job well done. How did they sleep at night? Or look at themselves in the mirror every day?

She downed her last shot and closed her eyes. The kitchen went quiet for a few companionable minutes, as we both savored the soothing inner warmth of the liquor. I felt just as comfortable and welcome in this small, cozy kitchen as I did in my own back in London. Peaceful sanctuaries, far removed from the chaos of my celebrity life, were few and far between for me. I now considered Bella’s home and family to be one of them.

Finally, she sighed deeply and pushed the empty shot glass away. “I owe you a huge apology.”

I couldn’t think of anything she’d done that she would have had to apologize for. “What for?”

She sighed again and looked away. “My behavior, that’s what for.”

“Oh, the hand thing.” I chuckled at the memory of her feeling up my hands at the front door. “Don’t worry about it. That didn’t bother me.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Not the hand thing. It’s much worse than that.”

Then she proceeded to tell me things about the Twilight fandom that not even Bella had told me. I was both fascinated and repulsed by what she described. She was a member of several online forums, she explained, most of which were sites devoted exclusively to me. Fan sites. Their sole purpose was to talk about me, to post pictures of me, to keep up with what was going on in my personal and professional life. They apparently drooled over every picture of me that appeared on the internet, from photo shoots to candids taken by the paparazzi. They joked amongst themselves about what they would do if they met me, what they would say, how they would act. They gave me cute nicknames and talked dirty about me. I was mortified, and was unable to stave off the blush that spread over my face and neck.

“Want to know my username?” she asked.

I really didn’t, but those three shots of Tequila had obviously loosened Leslie’s inhibitions and her tongue.

“I have two actually,” she said before I could even open my mouth. “IWannaRobGasm and IWantRobsPeen.”

_Robgasm?? I want Rob’s what???_ “A peen? What the hell’s a peen??” I really needed to put my mouth on a five-second delay to give my brain time to catch up. As soon as the word left my lips I instinctively knew the definition of a peen. I wanted to slide underneath the table.

“A penis.” She provided the answer with a relatively straight face, but I suppose it was the look on my own face that finally made her break down into laughter. I had no idea what to say.  “I told you,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re horrible, dirty old women. I have a really good online friend from Texas, and her username is SwallowMeRob. And another one from Georgia and hers is Cum2MeRob, and that’s spelled c-u-m.”

“Uh…”  I stared at her in dumbfounded astonishment. I was unsure what to say in response to that. Was I pissed? Not really. What these women did online had no direct bearing on my life. Was I embarrassed? Fuck yes. The idea of grown women obsessing over my body, especially my penis, was just ludicrous. My dick and balls were nothing special. Every guy on the planet had them, and a lot bigger ones, too. I thought about pulling her leg and telling her that I had been born with an unusually small penis and it had completely ruined my self-esteem to the point that I had become an attention-seeking actor and model to compensate for it. If I’d known her a lot longer and a bit better, I probably would have said it. But this was my girl’s mother, for fuck’s sake, and our first meeting. I had to maintain at least a small bit of decorum. So, I just giggled and laughed and shook my head at the pure absurdity of it all until she eventually laughed with me.

“That’s so ridiculous,” I offered, after we’d laughed ourselves out.

She nodded and sighed. “It is. It truly is. It’s so easy to dehumanize a person when they’re just a face on a computer screen.” Her eyes, which were mirror images of Bella’s, met mine. “It’s a lot harder when you know the person. When you know that they have a hole in the big toe of their right sock. When you know that they have a tear in the left shoulder seam of their faded Rolling Stones t-shirt. When you know that they like mashed potatoes, but don’t like peas.”

I grimaced. “You noticed that, huh?”

She smiled and nodded. “You’re just a normal guy, and you’re a human being. Treating you like a piece of man-meat is…well, it’s just not right. I’m ashamed of my behavior at your expense, and I apologize for it. It’s going to stop right here, right now, because you’re a decent guy and you don’t deserve to be demeaned in that way. It may be a little presumptuous, but I’m going to change my username to RobsFutureMIL.”

I smiled inside at the idea of this family being part of my extended family. They were good people. “You might want to have a backup: IWannaKickRobsAss.”

She laughed and punched me in the shoulder. “I would never do that.”

I gave her a skeptical look. “You might. I tend to fuck things up on a regular basis.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said adamantly. “You must be your own worst critic because Abby has nothing but good things to say about you. She says that you’re a good man and that you treat her with kindness and respect. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Well, Bella is a little biased.”  I realized my slip a moment too late. She was staring at me in a very strange way that made me want to squirm in my seat.

She smiled.  “You call her Bella. That is so precious.”

So then I had to explain all about how Bella and I had met and how she’d introduced herself to me using that name. Leslie laughed when I told her I’d thought Bella was some psycho fan who’d lost touch with reality and was probably bent on killing me.

“It’s just so sweet,” she purred again. “Edward has his Bella and now the man who plays him has found his Bella, too. How perfect is that? It’s like a fairy tale come true.”

And with that one statement, all of the shit with Summit came rushing back. I’d almost succeeded in putting it out of my mind, at least for one evening, but there it was again. I slumped back in my seat and began twirling my empty shot glass in circles.

“Did I say something wrong?”

I really wanted to tell someone about what had happened, someone who could look at the situation with objectivity. The warm glow of the kitchen and the matching warmth of the tequila moving through my bloodstream made it seem like a good idea to share with Bella’s mom.

“Something happened in LA. That’s why I was able to come up here earlier than expected. I haven’t told Bella about it yet.”

“What happened?”

I explained it all without any interruptions from her. Her eyes widened when I revealed that I’d basically told Summit to go fuck themselves and get another Edward Cullen, and then they softened when I told her why: I’d done it to protect Bella from being used as a publicity tool for their film. I stopped and waited nervously for her to say something. There was silence in the small kitchen for a very long and uncomfortable stretch of time before she finally spoke.

“As Abby’s mother, I just want to wrap my arms around you and give you a big hug. More than anything else, more than any words that you could ever say, this one selfless act proves to me how much you care about her. To give up this role to protect her…” She shook her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You really are a good man.”

“But?”

She swiped at her eyes. “But, speaking not as a parent now, but as a fan of Robert Pattinson, I’m upset. Not because of what you did or the reason behind it. I’m upset because you simply cannot walk away from this franchise. I wonder if you have any idea what this is going to do for your career. I realize that Twilight isn’t going to get you an Oscar, but this thing is huge, Rob. I doubt you have any true grasp of just how widespread the fan base is for these books. These films are going to put you on the map and I feel sure this will open doors for you that you can’t even begin to imagine now. You can’t walk away from it, even if you’re right about Abby, even if Summit is wrong.”

“But, they want me to take her to the Oscars as my date, and drop her name to reporters. I can’t do that. That’s when the feeding frenzy will start, and it’ll never end until they hound her and her family and friends to death. I’m just not going to allow that to happen.”

We stopped talking and sat together in the quiet kitchen, with the rest of the house asleep, and silently pondered my dilemma.

“Do you really think they can replace you?” she asked suddenly. “I mean, doesn’t filming start on New Moon in just a couple of weeks?”

“That’s what Cathy says. She’s my public relations person and my friend. She insists that they’ll back down, but I’m not so sure. The woman who is head of that stuff sees nothing but dollar signs in this.”

She pecked her index finger on the table, deep in thought. “I think you have a bargaining chip you’re not considering: the fans. They adore you as Edward Cullen. If Summit tried to replace you, the fandom would explode in outrage. Trust me, I’m deeply immersed in the online culture of this, and the backlash would be huge. I think you should remind them of the power of the fans, that they are the ones who buy the tickets at the box office and who buy all their Twilight merchandise and DVDs. If Summit dumps the fans’ favorite actor, then the shit is going to go down. They’ll get so much hate mail they won’t be able to hire enough people to respond to it.”

Did I really have that much power in the role of Edward Cullen? Could I really walk in and just tell a major studio that without me in their film, they’d sink like a rock? I wasn’t sure I had the balls to do that, to be that demanding and arrogant with people who had taken a chance on me and were now providing me with the best paycheck I’d ever had in my short life. And if I somehow grew the necessary balls to do it, would it work?

“How do you think Bella is going to react to all of this?” I asked hesitantly.

“I can’t say for sure, of course, but if I were your girlfriend, I’d be touched beyond belief that you’d make this kind of sacrifice for me.”

I sighed with relief. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

“And then I’d be so pissed at you, I’d want to strangle you,” she finished, grinning crookedly. “My advice would be to have that conversation with her somewhere very private, where the neighbors won’t overhear and call 911 about a domestic disturbance next door.”

Shit. I really did not need to hear that.

“But if you care for each other as much as I think you do...” She smiled and patted my hand. “...you’ll work it out together.”

 

\--------------------------------------------

**_~ Tuesday morning, February 18, 2009 ~_ **

****

“Can I go in the front door?”

Bella stared out the windshield at the front of the Foster’s house and laughed. “Personally, I’d love to see you climb that trellis again. That was priceless.”

“No fucking way.” I nervously glanced at her to make sure she was just kidding.

She smiled without looking in my direction. “Just pull up your hood and let’s go.”

Without waiting for an answer, she scooted out of the car and I followed her with my makeshift public disguise in place, not that anyone around this place cared about Robert Pattinson. The house next door was closed up tighter than a drum with the shades drawn and no sign of life. The morning traffic, sparse as it was, had dwindled down to nearly nothing, as everyone apparently made their way to their jobs and whatever else there was to do in this place. Vancouver was pretty, but where Bella lived felt like the Australian Outback to me, except colder.

We shut the door to the outside world and let the quiet of the deserted house surround us. Bella sighed and took off toward the stairs. We passed the kitchen and the memory of our first breakfast together flashed into my thoughts: bacon and eggs, and a sexy nightgown. The best Morning After I’d ever had.

We climbed the stairs to her bedroom and I wondered if she remembered how we’d kissed our way from the bottom step to the landing and everything that had come after that. But, after what had happened in Europe, maybe she didn’t want to remember our last moments together. Only then did it occur to me that coming here might not have been the best idea. But she had been the one to suggest it, so wouldn’t that mean that she had no problem with the memories? I had no idea, but thought it best not to ask.

We finally arrived in the bedroom where it all started, and it looked completely different than the last time I was there. The walls were noticeably bare, and the freaky weird cardboard cut-out of Edward that gave me the creeps was nowhere to be found.

“What happened to Edward?” I asked, sweeping my gaze over the room that now seemed strangely naked.

She smiled and shrugged. “I don’t need the pictures anymore. I have the real thing.”

My eyes were drawn to the window seat where we’d listened to music together, the place where we’d first kissed. Three long strides and I was there, leaning my back against the window frame and dangling one leg off of the edge. I grinned in her direction and motioned with my head for her to join me. She smiled and did just that, tangling her shorter legs in with my long, gangly ones. She was leaning back against the opposite frame and staring back at me with such incredible sweetness. Hopefully, she was revisiting that night in her mind, just as I was.

“I was scared shitless that night,” I said, shaking my head at the memory of our first night together.

A frown creased her forehead. “Why?”

“I’d never been anyone’s first before. I was scared to death of messing it up.”

“Oh, you didn’t mess it up.” She smiled in that naughty way of hers that always got my blood racing.

I swelled up with manly pride but couldn’t think of a witty come-back, so my body settled for that idiotic blush that always crept up my face at the worst times.

She giggled softly. “I love it when you blush.”

“I hate it.”

She smiled. “I know, but it drives the women crazy.”

How could anyone respond to such a ridiculous statement? When did red cheeks become sexy?? I decided to ignore it, like I tried to ignore all of the other nonsense about my body that I now knew, thanks to Bella’s mom, was plastered all over the internet.

“I was scared that night, too.” Bella’s eyes met mine briefly, and then looked down. “But not for the reason you think. I wasn’t scared about the sex part. I was afraid I wouldn’t be sophisticated enough for you.”

_Sophisticated enough? What??_ I leaned forward and tugged at her chin to get her to look at me. “What in the hell are you talking about?? Look at me. Do I look sophisticated to you, in any way, shape or form?”

I was wearing yet another ratty, faded t-shirt of one of my favorite bands, with a checked shirt over it that didn’t quite match, along with a baggy pair of pants that allowed me to go commando quite comfortably. I’d accessorized that sophisticated, fashionable get-up with a face full of stubble, blood shot eyes from lack of sleep, and my worn, scuffed sneakers, laces untied and minus the socks.

“You’re existential, and I was just a seventeen-year-old teenager,” she murmured.

I had to laugh, even though she was being serious. “You know what existential means, right?”

She frowned. Her mouth bobbed open several times, but nothing came out. She frowned again and finally looked at me. “Not really. I mean, I don’t think I could give you a definition, but it pretty much means you’re smart.”

I laughed again, louder this time. “No it doesn’t. It means I’m weird. That’s what you call strange people who do dumb shit, but somehow it seems cool. I read these really “existential”---“ I provided two air quotes to go with my sarcasm, and then continued, “---books that will never see a number on the NY Times Bestseller List. I watch films with subtitles that probably only five people, including me, have ever seen. I write poetry and song lyrics that, half the time, only make sense to me. I’m not existential. God, I could strangle Catherine for saying that about me on camera. I’m just me, and you’re just you, and I love you just the way you are. I don’t want sophisticated. I want real.”

Her face softened and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m going to miss you when you go to Tokyo,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

At that moment, I came face-to-face with the classic male dilemma: should we have sex first and then talk, or vice-versa? As far as Bella knew, we’d come to the Foster’s so we could have time alone for some quality, uninterrupted lovemaking. If we made love first, then the bad news later might spoil the afterglow and the rest of our day. But, on the other hand, if we talked first, she might not be in the mood to make love with a guy who was idiotic enough to tell Summit to go fuck themselves. I really, really wanted to be a cad and go for the sex first, but I found that I couldn’t. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped listening to my dick, which was a good thing.

“About that,” I started, hesitating and wishing I didn’t have to have this conversation with her at all. “There’s something I need to tell you.”  The sudden alarm that appeared in her eyes tore at me like a knife. The hurt from my infidelity was still there, hidden deeper than before, but still there.  “It’s about Tokyo…and Summit,” I hurriedly added to set her mind at ease.

“What about it?” she asked, confused and frowning.

“I may not be going.”

Then I told her everything. She never interrupted. Not once. Not even when I confessed to telling Summit to go fuck themselves and find another Edward Cullen. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. When I explained my reasons for walking away from the role of a lifetime, her hand flew to her mouth to hold in the sobs behind it. Her tears spilled over and ran down her face. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed at me, or touched, or what. Before I could ask, she was on my side of the window seat, her arms wrapped tight around my neck, nearly choking me as she cried. I did the only thing a bewildered guy who didn’t have a clue could do: I held her and let her cry it out. I kept my mouth shut and just held on.

Finally, she pulled away and stared at me, her beautiful face streaked with tears and her hair a damp, tangled mess. “I love you, Robert Pattinson. I can’t believe you’d do that for me, that you’d give all that up just to protect me. That’s so sweet.”

“You’re not mad?” I asked hesitantly.

Her face abruptly changed. “Are you serious?” She shoved me back against the window frame with both palms. “I’m fucking furious!!”

She bolted up and started pacing the room, angry words pouring from her mouth with each pass. She didn’t even look at me, she just ranted non-stop: How could I do something so stupid? Did I have any clue what the fallout would be? Did I want to commit career suicide? What in the fuck had I been thinking?? Was I tired of acting? Did I hate Edward’s character??

I turned my body around and faced forward. With hands clasped between my knees and my head down, I stared at the floor and listened to her diatribe until she finally ran out of steam. After a few silent moments, I felt it was safe to look. I raised my head, and saw that she was crying again. She raked a hand through her tangled hair and made this frustrated growling noise. She shook her head and stared straight at me for the first time since she’d gotten up.

“You did this for me,” she whispered in what sounded like disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Without talking to me first,” she said.

I grimaced. “I sort of…lost my temper. Didn’t think it out. I just reacted.”

“Have you talked to them since?”

I shook my head. “I turned my phone off so I could have some quiet time with you and your family.”

She sighed and crossed the room. I expected her to take her place beside of me in the window seat, but instead she sunk to the floor between my legs and stared up at me with no anger left in her eyes. I saw only love.

“I want to kill you and hug you all at the same time.”

I smiled weakly. “Could I have the hug first?”

She laughed softly and that was when I knew things were going to be all right.

“I have a suggestion,” she said, pulling my clasped hands apart and folding them into hers. “Tell them that I’ll go to the Oscars with you, as your girlfriend. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure you don’t lose this opportunity.”

I frowned and searched her face. “Is that something you really want to do? Be honest with me, Bella.”

She sighed and I saw the truth in the slump of her shoulders. “I’m not crazy about it. I think I’d be a little uncomfortable with all of the attention, but I’ll do it…for _you_ …if that’s what it’s going to take to fix this. I’ll be there right by your side through everything, from now on.”

I felt a flutter of panic. That was not what I wanted to hear. Not at all. Plus, I didn’t even want to think about what Bruce would do to my weird, skinny ass if I allowed that to happen, even if I wanted it to, which I didn’t.

Her eyes narrowed as she searched my face. “What?” When I hesitated, she pulled out her big gun. “That honesty thing goes both ways, remember?”

“Remember the conversation we had at The Grove about going out in public together?”

I’d told her that I loved her, that I was proud to be with her, and that if things had been different for me I would have been all over her in public and not cared what anyone thought about it. But the reality of my life was that too many people had the mistaken notion that a celebrity had no right to privacy. I made millions of dollars for the work I did, so I should just shut up with the whining and quit being a spoiled movie star. I should be grateful that people cared enough about my career to stalk me. Easy to say for people who didn’t have to live it every day. I saw the understanding dawn on her face as she thought back over our conversation that day.

“I know how bad it sounds, but I don’t want you by my side. This fishbowl has no walls and there are eyes everywhere. I don’t want you in there with me. I need you as far removed from my professional life as you can get, because when things get crazy for me, I need someone real to come back to. I want you to be my normal. I need that.”

Her eyes welled up with tears again. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be…your normal.”

I smiled and cupped her face in my palm. “Then it’s settled. We’re not going to let Summit dictate our personal lives.”

“But what about—?”

I interrupted her objection with a tender kiss, which quickly turned into a deeper one. I grabbed her waist as we kissed, pulling her with me to a standing position. My intention was to hoist her up and let her wrap her legs around my waist, and then I’d carry her to the bed. _You know what they say about good intentions._ I went off balance and stumbled backwards against the edge of the window frame. Bella squawked when she realized we were about to fall. She shrieked with a combination of laughter and surprise when I attempted to right myself, but instead ended up being forced to let her slide awkwardly to floor. My wounded ego and I slumped against the wall while Bella lay on her ass on the hardwood floor giggling up at me.

“Maybe you should use a wire next time, like in that tree scene.” She giggled and then snorted.

I nodded and shot her an evil grin. “You making fun of my gawkiness? Huh? You think it’s funny that I can’t stand upright on level ground?”

“Yep.” She grinned evilly back.

I nodded again, smiled and chewed my lip. “I see how it is.”

And before she could scrabble away from me, I caught her around the waist and dragged her squirming, giggling little body toward the bed. Where the fuck was my stunt double when I needed him?? Bella was a handful when she set her mind to it, and she seemed determined to make this hard for me. We both laughed outrageously as I clumsily wrangled her up and onto the bed and then attempted to pin her down as she playfully fought me.

“Lay still!” I commanded, laughing.

“Is this your idea of BDSM?” she asked, giggling. “Do I need a safe word?”

“If I have to cuff you to fuck you, I’ll do it!” I leered at her and she hissed in a quick breath.

“Do you have any?” she asked softly, one eyebrow arched seductively.

I laughed and tried to block her knee from getting to my gonads. “Do I look like I have a set of cuffs? I didn’t even have a rubber in my pocket that night. Besides, I don’t need cuffs. I can just dazzle you with my Edward Bedazzler.”

She giggled. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Your Bedazzler??”

I kissed her to shut her up. And when I say kissed, I mean I was doing some serious sucking face, lots of tongue and lip nibbling. She moaned and her play-fighting stopped. She relaxed beneath me and then pushed her hips up hard against mine, grinding and rubbing one of her own out on my groin.

“Robert.”  
  
I kissed my way down her jaw, to her neck and nibbled at her ear. “Hmm?”

“I’ve been doing some research.” She gasped breathlessly when I slid the tip of my tongue along her earlobe.

“That’s great, Bella.” I moaned as she arched her body up against me.

“It’s for my novel. I want everything to be accurate.” Her fingers worked at the buttons of my fly as she talked.

“Accuracy is good. What were you researching?” Like I gave a shit right now, but she seemed to want to talk, so I went with it.  She was having difficulty loosening one of the buttons of my fly. I helped her out. When I had my hand free, I pushed up her shirt and crawled my fingers beneath her bra. I squeezed and kneaded her breast until she groaned deep in her throat.

“It’s for a lemon.” She gasped when I gently pinched her nipple between my fingers.

A lemon? My brain was on temporary disconnect, which tends to happen when a guy’s dick has the helm. Then suddenly, the light turned on. _A lemon??_ I remembered our conversation on the plane about fan fiction. A lemon was a sex scene. _Fuck yeah!!!_ I suddenly found myself giving a shit.

“Tell me all about it,” I commanded softly as I unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down.

“I can’t tell you. I have to show you.”

\--------------------------------------

I felt like I was in a movie, but none of my directors had ever been as fucking sexy as Bella was while she was showing me what to do. She’d taken off her shirt, and pushed her bra cups down and tucked them underneath her breasts, which pushed those beautiful globes up and out. Her jeans were gone, but her skimpy lacy panties were still in place.

She slid my checked shirt off, pulled my ratty t-shirt over my head, tossed it in the floor, and then asked me to put the checked shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned. I didn’t see the point, but this was her lemon, so I went with it. She told me to shuck off my pants, and leave my underwear on. Well, that part of the scene was fucked because I was commando and she didn’t know it. It didn’t take her long to find out, and like a true director, she didn’t let a missing prop stop film.

She instructed me to pull my legs underneath me and sit back on them. Then she got on her knees, her firm, round ass up in the air and facing me. Bella liked my long fingers. She always had. So I pushed her lace panties to the side and gave her what she wanted. I buried them deep and moaned when she rocked back and forth over them.

I did that for awhile, but I was getting fucking impatient. I wanted inside of her. I wanted that connection. I needed her close to me, not up on her knees and so far away. I removed my fingers and tugged at her hips, pulling her back onto my lap. She spread her legs so that her thighs were outside of mine. I kept the lace of her panties out of the way so she could slide down onto my dick in one smooth, fluid, motion.

“Oh, fuck yes,” I breathed against her back, pushing her hair to the side so I could kiss her shoulder blade.

I snaked my arms around her and both hands closed over her breasts. It took us a few moments to get in a rhythm, but eventually we were able to synchronize our movements. We rocked together, slowly and sensuously. I’d never made love in this sitting-up position before. It was sexy, but the best thing was that I could tell it was going to take me longer to finish. We could stretch this out for a long time this way. I twitched inside of her at the thought.

My arms were as long and gangly as everything else on my body, so I was able to reach the crevice between her thighs with ease. While we rocked together on the bed, her fingers and mine worked in unison to bring her to that peak…twice. She shivered along my shaft, and I fought for control as her body gripped mine, over and over again.

That idea of stretching this out for a long time? I should have known better. That shit only happened in porn films, where the director yelled cut five hundred times, and the guy with the boner got a chance to rest in between all the fucking, which also gave him a chance to calm his ass down. There was no one in this room to yell ‘cut’.

Bella was grinding down on me and swiveling her ass around on my dick, and there was no way in hell I could slow down. I rose up off the bed, just a little, and grabbed her hips with both hands. She moaned, and balanced herself with her palms splayed out on the sheet. I thrust into her hard, and she pushed back just as hard. Ten seconds of skin smacking against skin and I was done for. I gathered her close against me and held her tight, kneading her breasts hard, as I pushed deep inside of her. The release was like someone had opened a valve in my body and all the tension and worry and frustration of the past days just gushed out of it in one huge flood, leaving me calm, serene, and happy.

She collapsed back against my chest, the back of her head resting on my shoulder, her hair tickling my face. She found my hands resting on her thighs, and threaded her fingers in with mine.

_My normal…_

_\-----------------------------------------_

“How was that lemon?”

We were sprawled flat on the bed, all tangled up with each other and relaxing.

“Pretty damned good. The only drawback I can see is that the guy’s legs might fall asleep if it went on too long. Mine were starting to go numb.”

She smiled. “I’ll just have to make sure my characters don’t drag it out, then. So, how do you like being my ‘lemon tester’?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I feel kind of used, to be honest, like a piece of man meat or something. This could cause serious harm to my fragile self-esteem.”

She snorted and smacked my chest. “Fragile self-esteem, my ass. You’re like all men. You love being ‘used’.”

We agreed that I was now, officially, Bella’s Lemon Tester. If it passed my stringent requirements for good sex, then it would make it into her novel, even though my requirements didn’t go much beyond a dick and a pussy, but she didn’t have to know that.

“When are you going to turn on your phone?”

She would have to bring that up. But who was I kidding? Time wasn’t standing still, not even for me. I couldn’t avoid Summit any longer. I had a pre-production meeting on the 20th, an Oscar party on the 22nd, and the Oscars on the 23rd,  _if_ I still had a job.

I sighed, and groaned, and made a frustrated, whiny noise that let Bella know that I really did not want to turn on my phone. I was being completely immature and unprofessional, thinking I could just pretend everything was fine as long as that rectangular contraption was turned off. It was time I took my dick in both hands and faced the music.

“It’s in my pants pocket. Would you get it for me?”

I was hoping she’d complain and not do it so I could put it off for a little while longer, but, she hopped up off the bed with her characteristic post-coital energy and got it.

“You may want to stand back,” I grumbled. “When I turn this thing on, it might explode.”

She laughed, but I wasn’t kidding. My cell was busier than Grand Central Station when I was working, and sometimes even when I wasn’t.

I ignored the missed calls from friends and even the ones from mum and dad. I searched, instead, for anything from Cathy. There were several voice mails, with the last one from her coming in last night. I ignored the earlier ones, and listened to that one.

Cathy said that the suits in the big office upstairs had thrown a shit fit when they’d found out what had happened. Apparently, Ms. Fitzpatrick was in a bit of trouble for pushing the issue when it had been obvious that I was against it. It wasn’t hard to miss the joy in Cathy’s voice as she proclaimed that my private life was now off-limits, and that I was still Edward Cullen as far as the suits were concerned. I heard a mechanical giggle as she informed me that if I wanted Ms. Fitzpatrick and the rest of her PR team to give me a complimentary blow job that they would oblige and would probably fight each other for the honor of sucking my dick.

Wow. My balls were now two sizes larger.

“What’s the verdict?” Bella asked.

“Cathy said my private life was officially off-limits and that I still had a job.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked sarcastically. “Like it was ever in danger to begin with. Those stuffy old men down there at Summit know a good thing when they see it.”

I listened to the rest of my voice mails and sent some reassuring texts to family as friends as Bella lay curled up against me and tucked underneath my arm. Finally, I called Cathy, and had to listen to the same thing I’d heard in her voice mail, only a lot more of it and with more colorful language. To shut her up, I asked about my itinerary, which I already knew. Before she disconnected, she asked if there was anything I needed.

“Actually, I’d like for you and Abby to get together while I’m in Tokyo. I want you to clear the way for her to find us a rental somewhere near the set in Vancouver. I’ll call my financial guy and set it all up, but I’d like for you to help her out with the logistics.”

Bella sat up, her mouth dropped open in shock. Then she grinned and quietly clapped her hands together like a little kid who’d just been handed the biggest ice cream cone in existence.

Cathy and I briefly discussed the details---we agreed to talk further when I got back to LA---and then said our goodbyes.

“What kind of rental?” Bella looked like she was moments away from bouncing on the bed like it was a trampoline.

“As long as it has a bed, a bathroom and a kitchen, I don’t care. And it needs to be pretty close to the set. Oh! And it needs to have you in it, too.”

She smiled and delivered the sweetest kiss to my nose, and then my mouth. She snuggled underneath my arm again and nestled her warm body up against me. With a contented sigh, I closed my eyes.

_My normal…_

 


	42. Tokyo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I want to thank all my lovely readers who responded to my pitiful plea for help with this story. I was hopelessly blocked to the point of just stopping and marking it as “No Longer Being Updated” and completely abandoning it. I couldn’t figure out a logical way to resolve it that would make sense and also satisfy my readers. So, a big thank you for all of the wonderfully creative ideas I received! With your help, I have now been able to come up with a satisfying conclusion to this story of Rob’s life. Yes, you readers ARE creative, even though you sometimes think you aren’t just because you don’t write. 
> 
> And so begins the end…

**~ ROB ~**

_**~ Tokyo, Japan – Tuesday evening, February 24, 2009 ~** _

 

The flight from LA to Japan seemed endless, but was peaceful at least. Kristen was taking a separate flight with her brother and publicist and would be arriving in Tokyo a day after me. I was grateful for once that we weren’t traveling together. I hadn’t spoken to her since we’d said goodbye in the Summit parking lot before Christmas, and wasn’t really looking forward to our reunion conversation. Even though we’d parted on fairly good terms, I just had an uneasy feeling that things weren’t settled between us. Except for that one voice mail during Christmas, I hadn’t heard a word from her, which was unusual. I hoped to hell that I was wrong, and it was just my routine paranoia at work.

Normal disappeared once I stepped off the airplane, shattered by the predictable screams of girls crowding the terminal, all clamoring for my autograph and trying to give me gifts. The flight had been long, the sleep restless, and all I really wanted was to crash in the quiet of my hotel room and try to catch a power nap before the craziness started. But then I remembered what Bella had said about my fans and how much it meant to them to get to see me in person, and how it had been a very special moment for her. I immediately felt selfish for only thinking of myself. I should be grateful that people gave a shit enough about me to stand in line to see me. One day they might all be gone. So, I put on a smile and made my way to the ropes to scribble my name as many times as I could before I was whisked away by Dave the Prick.

Once we reached the hotel, I had an hour of downtime to grab a snack and chill before I had to do the first interview. I was in one of the largest cities in the world and all I could see of it was darkness and thousands of lights in the skyscraper windows. And in the daylight hours my sightseeing wouldn’t get much better; craning my neck to catch a glimpse of something while speeding by it in a car, or catching a moment to glance out a window from whatever building I’d been deposited into. I’d be lucky if I saw anything interesting. Anyone who thought my life was exciting and exotic needed to walk a mile in my worn out sneakers.   _Stop your bitching, Rob. Just man up and get through this so you can get back to the States and Bella._

Finally, at 11:30 I was deposited at my hotel to crash until morning. As soon as I closed the door to my room I was kicking off my uncomfortable shoes, ripping off my tie and digging my cell out of my suitcase. There was sixteen hours difference between Tokyo and the West Coast, so it would be early morning in Vancouver. I hoped she was up, because I desperately needed to touch base with the normal part of my life. I needed to know that somewhere in the world there was peace and quiet and ordinary.

She answered on the third ring. I stretched out on the bed and sighed at the sound of her voice still thick with sleep, but so sexy and husky. We talked about nothing, absolutely nothing of importance, but I was perfectly content with that. Her brother had dropped his phone in the toilet and was now in trouble with the parents. A stray dog had shown up at their doorstep the night I’d left and there was a heated discussion going on about whether to keep it or not. Bruce wanted to buy yet another assault rifle and Leslie objected, saying he had enough guns to single-handedly overthrow the government. Just ordinary, unimportant things and I loved hearing about them.

I groaned when Bella said that her mother had re-wallpapered her office with my face almost immediately after I’d left Vancouver, and that Bruce had started calling her PedoMom, the pedophilia version of Octomom. She giggled over the phone, and I found the whole thing so absurd that I ended up laughing with her.

The stress of the day disappeared as I relaxed on the bed and listened to her talk. She asked about me, but there was nothing much to tell. She promised to stalk me on the internet while I was away, which made me roll my eyes and laugh. She almost forgot to tell me that she was catching a connecting flight in Seattle with Cathy tomorrow and that they were going apartment hunting in Vancouver. Apparently, Miss Efficiency, that would be Cathy, had already gathered a list of potential properties to look at and appointments had been made. Bella assured me we’d have a place to stay just in time for pre-production to start. We finally said our soft goodbyes. I promised to call her whenever I could squeeze in the time for it, and text her when I couldn’t. This press junket was going to be a lot different from the last one.

  
_**~ Tokyo, Japan – Wednesday, February 25, 2009 ~** _

Early morning was a waiting game, waiting for Kristen and Taylor to arrive (on separate flights) so that the meeting about the premiere on Friday could begin. Mid morning, word finally came that they were on their way to the hotel. I smoked a cigarette and stared out the window at the cityscape before me, but not really seeing it. I was nervous and I wasn’t sure why. I loved Bella. I knew that with a certainty now and there was nothing Kristen could ever do to mess with that. I’d fucked up once and had been lucky enough to be forgiven. I wasn’t going to be that stupid again. So, why was I so jittery?  Thirty minutes later she was standing in the middle of my hotel room, staring at me with those stunning green eyes, looking hesitant and shy, the fingers of her right hand picking nervously at her skin tight jeans.

“Hey,” she said.

Her greeting felt weird and sounded awkward. We’d always been so comfortable with each other, but things had changed so much in just a few short months. This shy version of Kristen was already making me nervous and she hadn’t been in my room for thirty seconds.

“Hey,” I answered, frantically searching for a neutral conversation-starter. “Uh, how was your flight?”

In an instant, the hesitancy was gone. She snorted and flopped down on my bed. “It sucked like always, and then the fucking paps were in my face the minute I stepped into the terminal, asking if my brother was my fucking boyfriend, and did Rob know. I felt like telling them to go fuck themselves and then flipping them the bird but Sarah stopped me. I’m so tired of this fucking shit.”

In the space of fifteen seconds, the awkwardness was sucked completely out of the room. This was the Kristen I was comfortable with, the girl who spoke her mind and who didn’t give a fuck who she offended. Her snits could be quite funny at times, and exasperating at others. I bitched about the tediousness of these appearances, but I did it in the privacy of my own head. I longed to shove my middle finger in the face of some of these disgusting paps, but I would never do it. I loved that about Kristen. She was ballsier than most guys I knew, including me.

“You should have told them Taylor was your boyfriend and let the dumb fucks look like idiots when they printed it and then found out he was your brother,” I said, snickering.

She grinned and rolled her eyes. “I should have, but Ruth was guard-dogging me the whole time. Publicists are no fucking fun.” She scooted her body to the head of the bed and leaned back onto the pillows, ankles crossed, her feet wiggling with excess energy. “So, how was your holiday?”

My radar went up and on instant alert. “It was nice. Very relaxing. Yours?”

She sat up and crossed her legs, her nervous energy keeping her in near constant motion. “Michael is a fucktard. I dumped his ass right before Christmas, and this time it’s for good. He doesn’t support me anymore, and I do not need a man dragging me down who does nothing but whine about how my career is inconveniencing him. His in the dumpster and it’s somehow my fault?? I am so done with his self-absorption.”

My instincts told me that now was the time to be wary, and also to keep my mouth shut for once. I wasn’t sure whether this breakup was good news or bad.

“So, did you spend Christmas with your girlfriend?” she asked, changing the subject and trying to make it sound like it was an innocent question, but I knew better. She was fishing, and I wasn’t going to play this game with her. Everything between us was going to be the straight-up truth from now on.

“Not Christmas, but she came over after New Years and we spent the rest of the time together in London.”

She considered me, a blank expression on her face. I couldn’t tell what was going on behind those green eyes.

“I heard about the PR fiasco,” she said, staring me down from across the room, and changing the subject yet again. I dropped down into a nearby chair and steeled myself for what was coming. “I can’t believe you’d even consider breaking your contract over a fan girl. Boy, she’s really got you by the dick. You’re not even thinking straight.”

I felt the heat of my temper and fought to keep it under control. Kristen had gone from shy and hesitant to full-out bitch mode in just a few minutes, and boy, did I know firsthand what that looked like. I’d been witness to it enough, but had never been her target before.

“And you think that Summit using our private lives to promote a film is okay?” I asked sarcastically, even though I already knew the answer. Kristen would have told them the same thing if the tables had been turned.

“I heard that her first name is Isabella,” she said, completely ignoring my question. “Isabella Abigail Anderson, but you call her Bella, don’t you? Do you even have any idea how sick that is?? And you weren’t channeling Twilight in Europe. You were thinking of her while you were fucking me. That’s why you called me Bella.”

I shot up out of the chair, fuming. “I’m not going there. That’s over and done with. You chose Michael and I’m with Bella, and there’s no use rehashing all of that now.”

She rose from the bed and approached me. “You’re making a big mistake, Rob,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “This girl is not right for you. She’s an outsider. She doesn’t know how things work inside this bubble. Where is she, huh?” She whipped her head around the room like she was searching for her. “You need someone who understands what you’re going through, and who can be there when you need them, not thousands of miles away in some hick town waiting for you to get home.”

Then before I could react, her mouth was on mine, the kiss hard and desperate, her fingers pulling painfully at my hair. Without thinking, I shoved her off of me. She stumbled backward and fell awkwardly onto the bed.

We glared at each other for several moments while I struggled to hold my temper. “We’re not doing this again! Tokyo is not going to be a repeat of Europe! I’m with Bella now, so just get the fuck over it!!”

Before she could say anything in response, I stormed out of the room, slammed the door behind me as hard as I could and headed to the elevator. I stabbed the ‘Down’ button and the doors slid open almost immediately, leaving me standing face-to-face with a bewildered Taylor.

“Hey. I was just on my way up to get you guys,” he said. “The meeting’s starting in fifteen minutes. Over lunch.”

“Go get her,” I snapped angrily, jerking my head back in the direction of the hallway. “She’s in my room.”

Taylor frowned and pressed a button to keep the elevator doors open. “What’s going on?”

I huffed and shook my head. “You really don’t want to get in the middle of this.”

Taylor studied me a few moments and then removed his finger from the button. “The meeting is on the third floor in the main dining room. Go out the elevator and turn right. You can’t miss it. I’ll take care of Kris.”

Taylor and Kris had developed a sort of brother/sister relationship, so maybe he could convince her to mind her own fucking business. If not, it was going to be a very long three days.

 

*******************************

  
The lunch meeting was tedious and uncomfortable, at least for me. It took an enormous amount of effort on my part to concentrate on all of the details being thrown at us. The constant drone of our Japanese interpreters was distracting, and Kristen was still in bitch mode. I wasn’t much better. When we weren’t ignoring each other, we were exchanging cold, silent glances across the table. Taylor was obviously annoyed with us. He threw chastising looks at both of us all during lunch, clearly communicating the fact that he was obviously the most mature person sitting at our end of the table.

When the meeting was over, we couldn’t get out of that dining room fast enough. We were splitting up for the rest of the day. Kris and Taylor were going to do some interviews together, since they were anticipating questions about New Moon. Summit was hard-selling the Bella/Jacob package to fans during this junket. I couldn’t have been more pleased to have the attention shifted away from me for awhile.

We had just enough time to head to our rooms and change. The three of us ended up in the elevator together, alone. The strained silence only lasted a few seconds before Taylor shattered it.

“You guys need to grow up,” he said, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. “Talk it out, whatever it is, and quit glaring at each other like little kids. You’re making everyone around you miserable, including me.”

Kristen was looking at her feet, so I decided to look at mine. Taylor sighed, sounding frustrated, and as soon as the elevator doors slid open, he got the hell out of there as fast as he could. I followed him, not caring whether Kristen got smashed between the elevator doors or not.

_Two more days to go…_

  
_**~ Friday, February 27, 2009 ~** _

The last day of this nightmare trip had finally arrived. All I had to do was get through this premiere today and then I’d be free and on my way back home. I was up early and bleary-eyed from the partying the night before. I should have known better, but I was powerless to pass up an invitation to sing. Even though I hated getting out of bed this early, the stillness of the morning was something I was beginning to develop an appreciation for. I cherished every moment of quiet that I managed to get in between the chaos of these appearances.

 _There you go again, Rob. Whining when you should be thankful for what you have and the opportunities you’ve been given._ I pushed the negative thoughts to the background and focused on getting my head in the right place. My thoughts turned to Bella as they always did when I had a moment to myself. Given the time difference, she was probably getting ready for bed, or perhaps she was already fast asleep. Whichever it was, I longed to be with her, curled up against her back and cupping her breast in my palm, nestling my nose in her hair, tickling the bottom of her foot with my big toe and listening to her giggles.  A soft knock on the adjoining door interrupted what was promising to be a very sexy daydream. I sighed at the distraction, and also at the fact that it was Kristen, and I really didn’t want to talk to her. A louder, more insistent knock left me little choice.

“Rob? Can I come in?” she asked, her voice muffled by the door that separated us.

I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude for another round with Kris, but she obviously wasn’t going to go away. She knocked yet again right before I swung open the door and stepped aside. She only hesitated for a moment before shuffling into the room and turning to face me. I was surprised at her appearance. I hadn’t expected her to be in full make up and ready-to-go this early in the morning, but at least she could have combed her hair. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. She’d wrapped herself in a fluffy bathrobe that covered her body from neck to feet, and her eyes spoke volumes. She was tired and obviously hadn’t slept very well. I had an excuse, but what was hers?

She glanced at the bed, and then after a few seconds of indecision she headed to the small table near the window and settled into a chair.

“You look like shit,” she observed, a glimmer of a smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.

A sense of relief washed over me. Playful insults were our normal conversation starters, always had been. She wasn’t here to fight.

“Remind me to never go to a Japanese karaoke bar with Hugh Jackman again.” I sat down in the chair opposite her and grinned. “They pulled out these boxes full of women’s clothes for us to try on. Hugh dressed up in drag and tried to get me to. I wouldn’t do it.” I snickered. “Can you imagine the headlines if someone had gotten a picture of me in a dress doing karaoke? I sang awhile and then sat in the corner and watched. It was absurdly funny. I drank too much and stayed out way too late. So what’s your excuse?”

She sighed. “Nothing near that fun. I tossed around in the bed all night, thinking.”

I tensed and stayed quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. The silence dragged on.  “You want a cigarette?” I asked in an attempt to move the conversation along.

She sighed again and shook her head. “I’m a selfish cunt.”

How was I supposed to respond to a statement like that? I said the only thing I knew to say. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

She chuckled bitterly and stared at the table. “I’m very self-aware, Rob. I know I’m not your typical girl-next-door, and I don’t want to ever be that girl, but sometimes I go overboard with it and I hurt people when I don’t mean to. I’m here to apologize for being such a bitch.” She stopped and raked her fingers through her already tangled hair. “On second thought, a cigarette sounds pretty good right now.”

While she finger-combed her hair, I got her a cigarette and held the lighter for her. She inhaled and groaned softly. She took a few draws and then continued. 

“I fucking hate fake people, so I’m going to be totally honest with you,” she said, boldly meeting my gaze. “I didn’t leave Michael for being unsupportive. I left him because he wasn’t you.”

Oh shit. I swallowed hard and wondered what I should say. I didn’t want this to turn into another fight, not right before we had to go out on the red carpet. I hated the thought of having to smile all day for the cameras and pretend that everything was all right when it wasn’t. Acting for money was my job, and that was easy, but putting on an act just for appearance’s sake was something I never wanted to do.

“Please don’t be upset with me,” she continued softly without waiting for me to respond. “I’m not here to start a fight or try to get you in bed with me again. I just don’t want lies between us. I think we owe that much to each other after everything we’ve been through together. I made a huge mistake by choosing him over you. I was trying to hold onto something with Michael that had been gone for a very long time. You know, wishful thinking and all that fucking sappy shit.” She rolled her eyes and took another draw from her cigarette. “I fucked up and that’s not your fault. I hurt you and that’s not your fault either. I made that bed, so I’ll fucking lay in it, but I’m sorry about kissing you. That was out of line,  _waay_ out of line. That was the selfish cunt part, in case you missed it.” She grinned and the tenseness eased out of my body.

“I think the moment I realized how badly I’d fucked up was when I heard about the PR thing,” she continued. “I can’t even imagine a love that would make a person give up everything for someone else.” She shook her head. “I was so fucking pissed when I heard about that. You were either the biggest idiot on the planet or you were head over heels, and since I knew you weren’t an unintelligent man, it had to be love. Michael would have never made a sacrifice like that for me, and that pissed me off even more. You must love her so much.”

She stopped and smoked quietly for several moments. I waited for her to continue, not wanting to interrupt her when she was obviously trying so hard to make things right with me, but she seemed to be finished.

“I do love her,” I said finally. “And I love the fact that she’s not part of all of this. I don’t want someone who understands this business. I want an ‘outsider’. I want normal, ordinary. She doesn’t want to be part of this either, so it works for us.”

Kris nodded and continued to smoke. Her green eyes were clearer now and she looked less tired, like her confession had lifted a crushing weight from her shoulders.  

“One last thing, since I’m all into this honesty shit all of a sudden.” She chuckled softly and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “I love you. And I want you to know that if things don’t work out with your girlfriend, I’m here for you.”

“Uh, Kris,” I stuttered, not sure what to say.

She laughed quietly. “Oh, don’t be thinking I’m going to turn into a fucking Pining Pollyanna, crying my eyes out every night over losing you. I love you, but I’m not going to waste away or try to make you feel guilty or anything like that.” She grinned. “Selfish cunt, remember? I’m still going to have my fun, but I want you to know that beneath all of that, it’ll always be you I love. Always. No pressure. No guilt. Just the truth.”

I didn’t know what to say. My feelings were a confused mess right at that moment. On the one hand, I cringed at the thought of her carrying around this unrequited love for me, while on the other hand I was kind of flattered, which didn’t seem right either.  “I appreciate the honesty.”  It was the only thing I could think to say that wouldn’t get me in deep emotional shit with her. I didn’t want to say too much and maybe give her false encouragement, but keeping a distance was implausible as well, not as long as we were still involved in this franchise.

“And I won’t interfere with your relationship. You know, I’d kind of like to meet her.” She snickered. “But it’s probably safe to say that meeting me is not on her bucket list.”

I grinned and nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s safe to say. At least for now.”

She smiled and it was genuine. She stuck her hand out across the table. “Friends?”

It was with a great sense of relief that I grasped her hand and gave her a genuine smile in return. “Friends.”

Then she propped up her elbow and before I could react, she slammed my hand down hard on the table.  “You’re such a fucking pussy!” she said, laughing.

“Pussy?? You fucking cheated! I wasn’t even ready!”

“Okay, I’ll give you a fighting chance this time,” she said grinning. She propped her elbow on the table again, her small, but deceptively strong hand open and waiting.

Yes, this was what movie stars did just hours before they were due to walk the Red Carpet and drown in a sea of screams, autographs, pictures and interviews. They arm wrestled and laughed as the sun inched its way over the horizon.

  
_**Santa Monica, CA ~ Tuesday, March 3, 2009** _

Kris and I met up in the elevator purely by accident. We’d been summoned to the corporate offices as soon as our plane had touched down in LA. I was fucking exhausted from the flight back from Tokyo and a long, unscheduled pre-production meeting was the last thing I wanted to do right now. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to call Bella before we were stuffed into separate staff cars and whisked away.

“What’s this meeting about?” I asked Kris as the doors smoothly slid shut.

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“I’ve tried to call Cathy, but she’s not answering. It goes straight to her voice mail. I was really hoping for some quality down time in a real bed before this shit started.”

“You and me both,” she answered, sighing.

I was uneasy and nervous for some reason. Cathy was nearly always available, and not answering my repeated calls was unlike her. And this meeting was not supposed to happen until tomorrow afternoon, so why had it been pushed up a day?  As soon as we walked into the conference room I had an overwhelming and sickening moment of déjà vu. Many of the same faces who’d been present at my ‘Fuck Edward Cullen’ meeting were ringed around the table quietly talking with each other. Most troublesome was the fact that Nancy Kirkpatrick, the head PR bitch who got off on fucking with other people’s lives for a dollar, was sitting at the head of the table with another woman in a power suit by her side.

Ms. Kirkpatrick’s attention shifted from the woman sitting beside her to me. “Aah, you’re both here. I trust your flight went well?” Without waiting for an answer, she gestured to the only two empty chairs at the table. “Have a seat so we can get started.”

We sat down and I glanced uneasily around the table. Kristen’s PR team was here, as well as mine. Cathy was at the other end of the table, idly scribbling on her notepad and avoiding my eyes again. I was getting a very bad feeling about this.

“I’m going to turn this meeting over to our vice president of marketing and publicity, Jill Jones.”

Ms. Jones stood, smiled and reached across the table to shake our hands. Once polite introductions were out of the way, she quickly got down to business.

“We’ve come up with a promising new strategy for promoting New Moon that we’d like to share with the two of you. But before we go into the details, I think a bit of background information is in order first.”

I looked Cathy’s way and she was paying attention now, but her expression was unreadable.

“You may not be aware of this—“ Ms. Jones continued, focusing her attention solely on me and Kris. “—but we have people on staff whose only jobs are to monitor the fandom that has sprung up around this series. They’re members of several major forums, have close relationships with a few of the more reputable Twilight fans who run large websites, and we’ve had several in-depth conversations with Stephenie herself regarding this upcoming film. Having our finger on the pulse of the fans helps us know where to focus our efforts.

“And what we’ve discovered is that New Moon is going to need some extra attention to get it to match or exceed Twilight’s box office. Stephenie is very well aware that the book was not as well received as Twilight. It inadvertently polarized her fans into two distinct teams, something she never intended and certainly did not see coming.”

“The team stuff is completely ridiculous,” Kristen interjected. “The fans take this story way too seriously, if you ask me.”

I agreed with her, but kept my mouth shut. I’d shown my ass in front of these people once already and I didn’t think they’d take too kindly to me showing it again. I’d been damned lucky that they’d backed down about Bella the first go around, and I had no idea what they had up their sleeve this time. I thought it wise to shut up and just listen.  Ms. Jones smiled indulgently, but it wasn’t condescending like the arrogant smile that seemed to always be plastered on Nancy Kirkpatrick’s face. She seemed genuinely friendly.

“Even if we all agree with you Kristen, the fact remains that the fans are our focus. If that is what is important to them, then it becomes important to us as a PR team. The Team Jacob folks are going to be extremely happy with this installment, but unfortunately, they’re a minority in the fandom compared to the number of Team Edward fans. Their dollars alone won’t be enough to push this film beyond Twilight’s take. Chris Weitz and Melissa Rosenberg have done their part by incorporating Edward’s character into the script much more than the book, so that those fans won’t forget him during the film. As publicists it’s now fallen onto our shoulders to keep the public interested in the actors who play their favorite couple. We have to give the Edward and Bella fans a reason to go the theaters.”

Kristen was fidgeting, and I knew she was probably growing impatient with the PR lesson. She hated these meetings as much as I did and both of us were tired and cranky.

“Ms. Jones, why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell us what you want us to do,” Kris said.

She nodded. “All right. Here’s the chase: we want the Team Edward fans to think that you have a real life romance off the set.”

I struggled to keep my face impassive, when all I really wanted to do was tell them to go fuck themselves all over again. I had to keep calm this time and argue from a position of thoughtful intelligence instead of impulsive temper tantrums.

“But we’re not a real life couple,” I said, speaking for the first time.

Ms. Jones laughed quietly. “Of course you’re not. All of us at this table know that. You’re involved with Abigail and Kristen is with Michael. Your friends and family, all of the important people in your life will know the truth. It’s the fans we need to fool. You’re both very accomplished actors. You can pull this off with hardly any effort. There’s a definite chemistry between you, and the fans see this. All it will take is a planned schedule of events for the two of you to attend together—concerts, dinners, parties, charity events—and then a fond glance here, a hand on his forearm there, your arm around her waist; gaze into each other’s eyes every now and then, put your heads together like you’re sharing an intimate secret. We’re not asking for anything blatant—no kissing or making out in public—just the hint of something going on, just enough to get the fans speculating.”

Kristen laughed softly. “I don’t have a problem with it. More money at the box office means more money in all our pockets, right?”

I glanced sharply at her, astounded that all she could think about was the money, and apparently wasn’t a bit concerned about the intrusion into our personal lives. But of course, she no longer had a personal life since she’d dumped Michael, but I did, and this didn’t sound like something Bella would go for, at all.

“Rob?”  

Ms. Jones, along with everyone else, was staring at me and waiting for my answer.

“I have a lot of problems with it,” I said, fighting to keep my voice calm and all business. “It’s disrespectful to the fans, and if they found out it would ruin our credibility as actors. We’d look like nothing but fame whores selling out for the money. Plus, all these scheduled events are going to cut into our private time with Michael and Abby.”

Ms. Kirkpatrick entered the conversation for the first time. “We gave you a pass with your girlfriend. We agreed to your request to keep her out of the spotlight, even though it would have skyrocketed interest in the film. You owe us for that one, my friend.”

I gritted my teeth and looked over at Cathy. She shook her head just a little, her eyes sad, and that’s when I knew I was fighting a losing battle. Summit had me by the balls and there wasn’t a single thing I could do except quit.

“Rob, come on.” Kristen punched me in the side with her elbow. “We’re professional liars. We can pull this off. It’s no big deal. Just think of it as another acting job.”

I met every person’s eye at that table and knew I was doomed. They were all gloating, except for Cathy. They’d lost a battle with me and Bella, but they were going to win the war with me and Kristen. Suddenly, I hated my chosen profession. I hated suits and their obsession with the almighty dollar, and I was annoyed as hell at Kristen for throwing us under the bus like this.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”  Saying the words made me sick to my stomach. I was selling out my fans, my credibility and my personal life. God only knew how Bella was going to react to this new intrusion into our lives.

“There is a lot riding on the success of this franchise, things you don’t even know about. You’ve made a wise decision that will benefit a great many people in this company. Thank you,” Ms. Jones said, smiling.

She stood and graciously shook both our hands. I barely even acknowledged the rest of the PR team as I scrambled to get out of that room. Kristen stayed behind to talk to Ruth, but all I wanted to do was get the fuck out and think about all of this. I heard someone trotting down the hallway behind me and I knew it was Cathy. She caught up with me and grabbed my arm to stop me.

“I’m sorry, Rob, but I was out-voted and out-maneuvered on this one,” she said breathlessly. “There was nothing I could do. I was only one small voice of dissension. I’m sorry. I know you hate this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, heading to the elevator. “I’m not upset with you. I just need to get out of here and talk to Bella. I have no idea how she’s going to take this.”

I stood in front of the metal doors and waited impatiently for the damned things to open. Cathy laid a comforting hand on my arm. “You love each other. You can make it through this.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t as confident as Cathy. She didn’t know the details of everything that had happened. Having to watch me spend time with Kristen and pretend to be her boyfriend would be like a slap to Bella’s face. No girl in her right mind would stand for that shit.

As the elevator descended to the lobby, it suddenly felt like my life was plummeting down with it, and there was no way to stop the crash waiting for me at the bottom.

 

**ME ARRIVING IN TOKYO**

**RUTH BERNSTEIN (KRIS'S PUBLICIST), TAYLOR (KRIS'S BROTHER) AND KRIS ARRIVING IN TOKYO**

**PHOTOS FROM THE TWILIGHT PREMIER IN TOKYO**

 


	43. For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I wanted to do a little explaining as to how I’m approaching the end of this story. You may not be aware, but there are people out there in the fandom who believe that Rob has been a willing participant in the Robsten farce since the beginning. These people believe that this was Summit’s strategy from Day One and that Rob and Kris knew and signed off on it. They also attest that the “breakup” and “getting back together” thing was staged too, but not the episode with Rupert. That was real. They insist that she didn’t cheat because there was no Robsten to begin with, therefore nothing to cheat on. She was just having a fling and was terribly indiscreet. Summit saw an opportunity and ran with it… AND Rob and Kris went along with it willingly. Whew! *deep breath* Well, in my opinion, I can’t totally discount their theory. It’s certainly possible that it went down that way. I believe that the reconciliation was fake and only for PR purposes, but as far as Robsten? You can't ignore those pics of Rob looking at her with such adoration. If he was faking it, then he’s a better actor than the critics give him credit for. Regardless, if their theory is true, then Rob turns out to be nothing but a Hollywood fame whore and my heart is broken.
> 
> So, I’m giving the man the benefit of the doubt. I’m writing him as a RELUCTANT participant, and completely miserable in the role he’s being forced to play. To write him as a person who would willingly dupe his fans in that way, just for box office take, is just something I REFUSE to do. Hmmm…I guess I DO still care about him, even if he pisses me off sometimes. Wow. LOL (But I couldn’t care less about Kristen and, unfortunately, it shows in this chapter. I apologize to my readers who like her. I just don’t and never have. I always planned for her to be the “bad guy” in this story, long before the cheating scandal even happened.)

**~ BELLA ~**

_**~ Vancouver, Canada - Thursday, March 5, 2009 ~** _

 

The house was nondescript, small, and cozy. Just what Robert wanted. It was near enough to the set to be convenient, but far enough away to be private without being isolated.  From our back porch, I could see a row of rustic bungalows nestled up against a stand of tall trees and bordering a small lake. Those were for some of the crew and the stunt doubles. Taylor was supposedly staying in the gray clapboard one, but I’d yet to meet him. Cathy had smiled and dubbed our little pond-side community “The New Moon Lagoon” and had assured me that before too long these new people in my life would feel like my second family.

The things that Robert had shipped ahead to Vancouver—his favorite books, toiletries and clothes—were unpacked and neatly put away. The small studio piano I’d rented as a surprise was tucked into one corner of the living room, shining with polish and waiting for him to pull beautiful music from its keys. The kitchen was stocked with all of our favorites. The only thing I needed now was Robert, and everything would be perfect.

I decided that the best use of my time, until Robert arrived tomorrow, would be to fire up my laptop and get down to the serious business of writing. Sitting around dreaming about being published wasn’t going to get me any closer to my goal. College was going to own my life starting this summer, so I needed to make some serious headway on my novel while I had the chance. I made a silent, stubborn vow to get my rough notes into something resembling a real plot outline by the time the sun disappeared behind those tall trees in the distance.

I was well into the first section of my outline when someone knocked. The wooden front door lacked a security peep hole, so I was forced to ask who was on the other side before opening, which I hated. A pap could easily lie and say they were the utility man and I’d have no clue if it was the truth until I swung open the door to find a camera flashing in my face.

“Who is it?” I asked cautiously.

“Kristen,” replied a muffled voice. “Kristen Stewart.”

 _What the hell is she doing here??_ The reasons why the girl who’d cheated with my boyfriend would be standing outside my front door asking admittance flashed through my mind: she wanted to apologize, make nice and try to be friends, or she wanted to size up her competition, or maybe she wanted to rub my nose in it in that she’d slept with Robert, or maybe she was just innocently curious about me, or perhaps she was just a jealous bitch. It could be any one of them or a combination. I briefly thought about ignoring her, but if I was going to be on set, we were bound to run into each other sooner or later. Perhaps it was best to get the awkwardness out of the way in private, instead of embarrassing ourselves in front of the whole cast and crew.  I unlocked and swung open the door. I hated to admit it, but my first thought was, _‘Damn, she’s beautiful.’_ She smiled and brushed by me. I secured the door, took a quiet deep breath and turned to face her.

She didn’t have any make up on, but that didn’t make any difference. She had a natural beauty that most girls had to spend a ton of money to achieve. Her brunette hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, and she was dressed casually in tight jeans and a torn t-shirt with a band logo on the front. She was wearing her signature Converse, of course. Her boobs were smaller than mine, which made me smile inside.I hoped she’d noted that fact while her green eyes made a similar appraisal of my body.

“Bella,” she said my name in a not-nice way and smirked. “We finally meet, and I have to say that it’s pretty fucking obvious why he’s infatuated with you.” She sighed.“You’re nothing but an off-brand attempt to copy the original.”

Well, the reason for her visit was pretty damned clear now. The big question was how to handle her. I could just beat the shit out of her like I had Julia, or I could rise above it all and play the ‘I’m not impressed’ card. Wonder how much trouble I’d be in with Summit if their star showed up on set with two black eyes?

“Robert won’t be here until tomorrow,” I said, choosing the high road and purposely ignoring her catty comment.

She smiled. “I know. In fact, I always know… _Robert’s_ …schedule. He has meetings today and then he’s on a flight out of LA at 10:00 in the morning. Want his flight number?”

“I have it. Thanks,” I answered. “So, why are you here?”

She shrugged and wandered around the room, touching my things, running a finger along the piano keys, eyeballing the décor.  “Cute place,” she commented as she fingered the drapes. “Kind of teenager-ish, but then…” She turned and gave me a smarmy look. “You’re a teenager, so it fits.”

I chuckled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you 18?” I added a silent ‘bitch’ to the end of that sentence.

She shook her head, her lips thinning into that annoying smirk that made my palm just itch to slap her face. “You know that metaphorical block people always talk about? I’ve been around it more times than you can count, while you don’t even have one fucking clue where it is. You’re way out of your league, girlfriend.”

“Maybe Robert wants someone who doesn’t want to know where that block is.”

“You know he hates the name Robert, right? He despises it. And anyone who truly knew him would know that.”

“He doesn’t mind me calling him that,” I said.

“He’s just being nice,” she answered, sighing.“He loathes it, and that just goes to show that you don’t really know anything about the man you’ve latched onto. Did you know that he’s fucked every female star of Twilight, with the exception of Elizabeth Reaser?” She must have seen the shock on my face. “He didn’t tell you??” She laughed and dug around in her pocket, pulling out a worn picture. “He did Ashley for awhile. Then he moved on. Here’s a picture of him and Nikki taken at a party.” She unfolded it and tossed it at me. It fell to the floor. “Take close note of where Nikki’s hand is.”

She grinned crookedly as she watched me pick it up from the floor. I felt her stare as I studied the worn picture.

“You see it, right? She’s grabbing his dick.” She snickered. “Rob gets around, honey. I already know this about him, and it doesn’t bother me. In fact, we’re a lot alike that way, so we sort of understand each other. I get a little ticked at him from time to time when he strays away from me, but he always comes back.” She stopped. I looked up from the picture and met her hard stare. “He always comes back to me, Bella,  _eventually_. His fascination with me goes way back to that very first audition. I’m under his skin, and he can’t get rid of me, no matter how much he tries. You can’t get rid of me either, especially now, since our meeting with Summit the other day.”

_What meeting?_

“You mean he didn’t tell you that either??” She grinned brightly. The bitch was enjoying ripping me apart, and I was too punch-drunk to offer a counterattack. She’d caught me completely off guard. “Summit is going to play up an off-screen romance between me and Rob. You know, to raise interest in New Moon. We’re going to start appearing together in public—at concerts, restaurants, parties, that kind of thing—and we’re supposed to be all chummy for the paps, but not too chummy. We just want the public to think we’re screwing each other’s brains out in private. So, while this little place you’ve got here is really cute, he’s not going to be here enough to enjoy it with you. He’s going to be with me, and I’m going to do everything in my power to get him the fuck away from you for good.”

One second my hand was holding the picture of Nikki and Robert, and the next it was empty and slamming into the side of her smug face.

She screamed in outrage and violently pushed the brown tangles out of her eyes. “Go ahead, hit me again, bitch!” she snarled. “I’ll get a fucking restraining order against you so fucking fast your head will spin! You won’t be allowed within a hundred fucking miles of me, which means you won’t see… _Robert_ …either!”

I took a step back and glared at her, fighting to keep my fists at my side. Her threat was genuine, and she had enough clout to make it happen. Whoever thought Kristen Stewart was the real-life epitome of sweet little Isabella Marie Swan had obviously never tried to take something from her that she’d decided was hers.

“Get out,” I said, barely controlling the fury churning in my gut.

She tucked her hair behind one ear and smiled sweetly. “You can keep the picture.”

She swept arrogantly by me. I didn’t turn to see her out. The door opened and shut. When I was sure that I was alone, I tore the picture into a million pieces, threw it in the trash and then collapsed onto the sofa and cried.

\-------------------------------------

_**~ Vancouver, Canada - Friday, March 6, 2009 ~** _

Robert was due in Vancouver in a little less than an hour. He’d texted me, letting me know he was making a short detour by the set, but that he would be home and in my arms very soon. I texted him back like everything was okay, like my heart wasn’t hurting, like my life was just the same as it had been yesterday at this same time.

My writing had come to a complete standstill after Kristen had left. I’d shut down the laptop, grabbed a quilt and sat on the back porch thinking until the sun disappeared and I was shivering from the cold. The revelation about Robert sleeping with his co-stars hadn’t had the effect Kristen had been hoping for. I’d torn the picture up because I couldn’t tear up Kristen’s face. The fact that Robert had been with other women didn’t matter to me. He was attractive and fun to be around, so it would have been totally weird if he’d come to me an awkward virgin. Of course he’d been with women before me. How stupid did Kristen think I was? To get upset over things that happened before he met me was a waste of my time. I had a more important problem: Summit.

To say that I was hurt he hadn’t confided in me about Summit’s decision was an understatement. But then, after I considered the source, I thought it better to wait for confirmation from him before jumping to conclusions. She could have lied about the whole thing. I didn’t trust her.  But what if it was true? I tried to imagine my life the next four years: me staying at home alone while they went out together, having to see the pictures of them in the tabloids at the checkout line speculating in bold headlines if they were a couple or not. Of course, I would know the truth behind the ruse, but for some reason, that didn’t make the whole thing any easier to swallow. If it was true, then the harsh reality was that my boyfriend was going to be spending more time with the girl he’d cheated with than he was with me.I wasn’t sure there was anything Robert could say to make that situation more palatable for me. But, at this point, I couldn’t make any final decisions. Everything depended on the conversation I was soon to have with Robert.

\----------------------------------------

"Hey." Robert dropped his carry-on by the door and smiled.

“Hey,” I said, smiling back.

Then I was being gently folded into his strong arms and showered with his warm, smoky kisses. “I missed you so much,” I murmured against his chest.

He said the same. We stood in the middle of our tiny living room and just held each other. I wanted it to stay like this so I could avoid the conversation that was looming on the horizon. I wanted every ugly thing that Kristen had hurled at me with such joy to be totally untrue so we could go on with our lives as we had been.

He finally pulled away and looked around. When he saw the piano in the corner, he grinned and made a bee-line for it. He played a quick arpeggio with one hand and then turned to thank me for the surprise. He drifted around the room checking things out, and peeked into the kitchen. Then he took off down the short hallway that led to the back door. I followed him out onto the porch where I’d sat under a thick quilt and cried all afternoon yesterday.

“This place is nice,” he said, sighing with satisfaction. “I love the quiet.”

I pointed across the small lake. “That gray house is where Taylor is supposed to be staying.”

He grinned slyly. “We’ll sneak over there one night and scare the shit out of him. That’ll be fun.”

“His security will break that skinny body of yours in half.” I laughed when he pretended his fragile male ego was hurt beyond repair. “Are you hungry?” I asked.

He gave me that look—our look. “Maybe. It’s according to what’s on the menu.”

“All your favorites:lemon meringue pie, lemon pudding, lemonade…”

He frowned, because those weren’t even remotely his favorites, and then he finally got it. “Aaah, lemons. I remember now.”

We spent the afternoon in bed, decadently doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company. I knew I was just prolonging the inevitable, but I selfishly wanted this time with him before the ugliness of reality crept into our lives.

I savored the feel of him inside of me. We lingered over every kiss and took our time loving each other. He was gentle and sweet, whispering to me as he moved with a slow, sensual rhythm. My mind flashed back to the night before he left for Europe, and the tender, but sad, way we’d made love. I fought back tears when I realized that this felt just like that had: like it was goodbye. Was he feeling it, too?

\--------------------------------------

A text message near the end of our dinner finally forced us both to face reality. He read it, frowned, and then slumped back in his chair with an air of defeat. It had something to do with Summit. I could read it in his face, see it in the way he avoided my eyes, and hear it in the dejected sigh that softly slipped past his lips.

“I have something to tell you,” he said, finally bringing his beautiful eyes up to mine. They were so sad.

“It’s about Summit, and their decision about New Moon,” I said.

He looked surprised. “How did you find out?”

“Kristen beat you to it,” I answered, fighting to keep my expression neutral and not let my distaste for her show on my face. “She was here yesterday and told me all about it.”

His eyes narrowed and I wondered what he was thinking. She’d had no right to break that news to me before he did, and I was fervently praying that he would see her for what she really was: a spiteful, interfering bitch.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured, still frowning.

Then I told him everything that had been said between us. I wanted him to know exactly how it had gone down—the accurate version—because I was sure Kristen would put her own lying spin on it later. I didn’t leave anything out, not even the picture of Nikki. I admitted to slapping her without shame and confessed I would have done more had she not threatened me with a restraining order. I calmly repeated her promise, nearly word for word, about how she was going to use this decision by Summit to do everything in her power to get him the fuck away from me. When I finished, we sat in silence for an uncomfortably long time. He looked away from me as he wrestled with his emotions. His face was clouded with barely-controlled anger, but there was confusion mixed in with it, too.

“That’s not the conversation we had about this,” he said, finally returning his gaze to mine. “She promised she wouldn’t interfere.”

Quietly, he told me everything about Tokyo, and I knew when he described her kiss and how he’d angrily pushed her away, that he was being as honest with me as I’d just been with him. He’d told her that it was over, and it wasn’t ever going to be that way between them again, that he loved me and we were together whether she liked it or not. Then she’d apologized and had sworn to him that she’d never interfere with our relationship.

“Well, something obviously changed between Tokyo and Vancouver,” I said.

He leaned forward and reached across the table, grabbing my hand and holding on tight. “It doesn’t matter, Bella. Just ignore her. She can’t get me away from you if I don’t want to be gotten, and I don’t. I love _you_ , not her.”

 _Oh, but Robert, you weren’t there._ He hadn’t heard the venom in her voice or seen the steely determination in her eyes. I doubted Robert had ever seen the real Kristen Stewart, but I had, and I didn’t trust her one little bit.

Then he abruptly dropped my hand and sat back, his eyes suddenly stormy. “You don’t trust me. I can see it in your face.”

My temper flared. “I don’t trust _her!”_

He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “It’s the same thing. Saying you don’t trust her is the same as saying you don’t trust me.”

Robert just didn’t understand the wicked ways of some girls. I wasn’t that experienced at relationships, but I’d sure seen plenty of boyfriend/girlfriend drama with my friends—enough to know that there were some girls out there in this great big world who were experts at manipulation. They could find that one vulnerable guy in a crowd of hundreds. They knew when to strike and exactly what to say to get what they wanted. And most of the time, the guys never knew what had hit them until later, after their life had fallen apart.

He shot up from the table and crossed the room, keeping his back to me. I could tell he was struggling to get his anger under control. I hated fighting with him, but this time, it couldn’t be avoided. I stoically held my ground when he finally turned to face me.

“Even if Kris does try to get me back—“ He rolled his eyes dramatically. “—you’re basically saying that I’m too stupid to know that I’m being played, like I don’t have enough sense to recognize when someone is manipulating me. Right? Because that’s what it sounds like to me.”

His accusation was like a slap in the face; the hurt in his eyes woke my conscience, like he’d thrown me in an ice cold pond in the middle of winter. He was right. That was exactly what I was saying, even though I hadn’t really meant it to sound like that.  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I never meant to imply you were stupid.”

He continued on, as if I hadn’t even spoke. “I’ve known Kristen for a long time. Do you really think her behavior is news to me?? Kristen likes to mind-fuck people, Bella. I’ve watched her do it more times than I can count. Is it nice?? No, it’s not. But I’m not her parent, and there’s nothing I can do about it. So, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know about her. I understand what she’s capable of—even more so since what happened in Europe—and there’s no way she’s going to manipulate me into leaving you. There’s nothing she can do or say. You’ve got to believe that.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and dropped back down into the chair again.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated softly, reaching across the table for his hand. He sighed and gave it to me. “I _do_ trust you. Just forget I said all of that.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I fucking hate this,” he said, his voice low and intense. “When I signed on for this, I was literally broke and starving. It all sounded like a dream come true to me. But two films in and I already want out.” He met my eyes and grimaced. “God, I sound like a spoiled shit, don’t I? But, I just want out from under this franchise and away from Summit as fast as I can get out. I swear to God, I’m never working for the bastards again after this is over.” He looked at his cell lying on the table and then back up at me. “That text was from them. I have to go out tonight, to one of their stupid PR things. Some band is having a concert here in town. We need to be… _seen.”_

And so we’d finally arrived at the heart of the matter. I could beat the shit out of Kristen, call her a bitch, pull her hair, maybe even break her arm if I was lucky; Robert could talk to her, tell her to stay away from me and keep her prying nose out of our business. But neither one of us could fight Summit.

“And you’re going with her.”

He nodded.

“There’s no way you can get out of it??” I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to that question, but I had to ask anyway.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

But there was a way, and I reminded him of it: I could go public as his real girlfriend and put a stop to all of this fake PR nonsense. But he dismissed that idea as fast as it passed my lips.

“We’ve already discussed this,” he said stubbornly. “I signed on for this shit, but you didn’t. I’m not letting them tear your life apart for profits. That’s just wrong.” He gave me a half-hearted smile. “Besides, your daddy would shoot my balls off with one of those assault rifles of his if I let you go public.”

I gave him a half-hearted smile back. He squeezed my hand. “This isn’t fair to me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head. “No. It isn’t.”

I saw grief in his beautiful smoky eyes; I saw our future.

“I can’t stay,” I said simply, giving voice to what both our hearts already knew.

He squeezed my hand harder and nodded. “I know.”

The tears stung, blurring my vision, my grip on his fingers so tight that it hurt. “I still love you, Robert.”

He swallowed hard. “I know that, too. And I still love you. I’m selfish enough to want you to stay, but I understand that it’s asking too much.”

“I just can’t do this for four years,” I said, my voice quivering.

He nodded. “I know, Bella. I understand.”

The cell vibrated on the table. Next thing I knew he’d hurled it across the kitchen. I heard it crack against the wall and drop to the floor. Then I was in Robert’s arms. He was crushing me against his chest, holding me tight and softly whispering his apologies into my hair.

“I’m not breaking up with you.” I sobbed into his chest. “I just have to do this, for _me.”_

He stroked my hair and assured me that he understood. But when we pulled apart, his eyes were bloodshot and red, as were mine.  “I have to go,” he said.

I nodded and stepped back. My arms felt empty, and my heart hollow. “I’ll be gone when you get back.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. He weaved his fingers into my hair, his thumb tenderly stroking my cheek. He leaned into me and kissed me, a soft, sweet taste of goodbye. He murmured my name against my mouth. “Bella…”

And then he was gone.

\--------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

 

Any other time I would have loved the excitement of being in a bar and listening to a new band, but tonight I would have rather been anywhere else but where I was. I stared at the liquor bottles lined up behind the bar and wished I could crawl inside of one and never come out. But that wasn’t an option for me tonight. A buzz was all I was allowed, since this was an unofficial PR event for Summit.

Kristen indicated she wanted to tell me something. I leaned down so I could hear her through all the noise.

“Can you at least fucking pretend like you’re having fun??” she shouted in my ear.

There were people all around us. Someone in this room was probably aiming their phone at us that very moment. I could just imagine the tweet now: 'Saw Rob and Kris in the club. So flirty and sweet with each other.' Since getting Summit’s monetary dick hard was now my official job, I turned on the switch. Robert Pattinson, the guy who’d just said goodbye to the only girl he wanted to be with, instantly turned into Robert Pattinson, the guy who might have the hots for his lovely costar. Inquiring minds want to know, after all.

So, I leaned closer and smiled at Kristen like I actually gave a shit that I was there. I gazed into her eyes like I was fucking Edward Cullen. By this time tomorrow, grainy iPhone photos would be all over the internet, and fans would be picking my private life apart. But hey, I was raking in the dough, and turning down job offers like mad, so I needed to shut down the whine machine and deal with it.

 _“I just have to do this…for me.”_ Bella’s sobs echoed in my head. I missed her already and it was only going to get worse. First thing tomorrow, Summit was going to have to set me up in a hotel room, because I didn’t think I could stand being in that house, not after we’d made love in the bed I’d have to sleep in.

 _“I just have to do this…for me.”_ Her words were stuck in my head, drowning out the music, the noise, even Kristen’s shouting in my ear. They resonated with me more strongly than anything anyone had said to me since this madness had started.

_For me._

This incredible Twilight journey had started out as something I’d done only “for me”. I’d had no hope of getting the job. I’d pretty much written off acting as a career choice. I’d just wanted to do the audition, be in the same room as Kristen, say lines with her, see how I measured up against her talent. I needed a reason to keep trying. Well, I’d gotten the job and that was the last thing I’d done “for me” since 2008. All I had to do was get through the next four years. Take it one day at a time. Do what they asked of me until the moment it was finally over.  When the last credits rolled and the DVD promotion for the last film was over and my contract with Summit officially expired, I was finally going to do something for me, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be acting.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I dug it out and smiled when I saw the message:

_you’re going to be okay_

_call me if you need to talk to a psycho fangirl from a small town in Washington_

_Bella_

\--------------------------------------

 

Now, you KNOW I don't tease and not provide pictures! So...

 **THE INFAMOUS "DICK GRABBING" PICTURE OF ROB AND NIKKI**  
(It's common knowledge now that Rob "dresses to the left")

**ROB AND KRISTEN AT A VANCOUVER CONCERT**

(This concert didn't happen until May, and it was Sam Bradley's, so I had to take an author's liberty and use it in this chapter. Forgive me?)


	44. Guilt

**~ BELLA ~**

**  
_Vancouver, Washington ~ Sunday, March 8, 2009_ **

When I arrived back home unexpectedly, my mom knew something was up. After being scrutinized like a bug under a microscope, I finally sat down with her, after Dad had gone to bed, and told her everything that had happened between me and Robert: the cheating, the reconciliation, and finally the way Summit had him by the balls and was now forcing him to pretend to be with Kristen.

Things changed after those revelations. My mom took all of his pictures down from her office wall, even though I protested that she wasn’t being fair to him. He’d made a mistake, but he’d apologized and had proved himself trustworthy after that. He’d been nothing but kind to me, loving and sweet, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. She stopped gushing over Twilight, stopped following Robert on the internet, and quit participating in the many forums she was a member of. ‘The bloom is off the rose’, she said to me as the tape on the last picture had come loose from the wall. I protested that Robert was human, that she’d put him up on a pedestal that he’d never asked to be put on, that all of his fans were recreating him into who they wanted him to be, not who he really was. He’d never measure up to that imaginary Robert Pattinson no matter what he did. My attempts to defend him fell on deaf ears.  I ended up in my room crying my eyes out and raging silently at everyone I could think of who’d had a hand in separating me from the most wonderful guy in the world. I cried because everything had changed, and for the worse.

I missed Robert, missed him horribly. He called me as often as he could, but our conversations were more painful than pleasant. He was unhappy; I could hear it in his voice. I was unhappy, and I was sure he could hear it in mine, too. Each time we spoke I wanted to beg him to come and see me, but I didn’t. He couldn’t have come, anyway. They were filming every day and long hours into the night. Then he’d have to go out after work and be “seen” for the publicity. He sounded exhausted and I wondered how much of that was emotional, rather than physical.

When I finally cried myself out, I was able to look at things with a more balanced perspective. I was the one who’d decided to take myself out of that whole twisted situation, and Robert had agreed with my decision. None of the people I’d silently raged at were really to blame. Summit was the only bad guy here, but they were too big to fight. Crying was useless and a waste of my time. I decided that the best thing for my mental health would be to just focus on my writing while Robert focused on his work. The time would go by faster that way, and before I knew it, filming would be over and we could have some quality time together.

There was a saying that a person would never move on to the next chapter in their life if they were stuck reading the last one over and over. The time had come for me to quit crying, quit moping and to especially quit dreaming about being a published author. It was time to actually put some effort into making it happen.

\-----------------------------------------------------

_**Vancouver, Washington ~ Friday, March 13, 2009** _

“OH. MY. GOD! They smoke! They all fucking smoke!! Did you see it, Abby? It’s all over the internet. All of them smoke, except for Jacob. They’re not supposed to smoke! They’re the Cullens!! And Bella smoking?? What the fuck is that about??”

My friend Jess, the most rabid Twilight fan on the planet, had finally lost it. I had no idea what she was talking about, as I’d been eyeball deep in my manuscript. I tried to avoid the internet at all costs, because I could spend hours on the computer following him around through the lens of the paparazzi and not get one constructive thing done.

“If it makes you feel better, Robert’s trying to quit.” My half-written chapter was glaring back at me from the computer screen. It was never going to make it to “finished chapter” status unless my dear sweet friend, who had difficulty separating reality from fiction, couldn’t pull herself together, and soon.

“Robert’s trying to quit.” She mimicked me, rolling her baby blues in such a huge circle it was a wonder they didn’t pop out of their sockets. “Riiiight. What rag did you read that on?”

I’d finally broken down and confessed my relationship with Robert to Jess two nights ago during a slightly alcoholic sleepover. Angie tried to stop me, but I was talking from the bottom of a Coors can and couldn’t hear the voice of reason. Jess stared at me forever, her mouth hung open in shock, and then she started laughing her ass off. She laughed so hard that she fell off the bed, which made me and Angie laugh with her.

When we all finally stopped and she picked her drunk ass up off the floor, she called me a liar. Now, if anyone else would have said that to me, I would have busted their lip a few times for it, but this was Jess. She couldn’t be held responsible for her words or actions, especially when it came to Twilight. She was worse with the fangirling than I ever was. Worse than my mom, even. She was the poster child for psychopathic Twilight fangirls all over the world. These characters were real to her. You did not joke about the Cullens, or the actors who played them.

I tried to tell her I wasn’t joking, that I really had met Robert in LA and we’d started dating not long after that, but she never bought it, not even with Angie backing me up. I reminded her that I’d been gone for whole month, and just where did she think I was during that time? She still wouldn’t believe that I’d spent it with Robert Pattinson in London. I was doing the hostel/backpacking thing all over Europe, she said. Basically, she thought I was just acting out the ultimate Twilight fantasy in my mind and Robert was my imaginary porn-friend. In other words, she thought I was completely crazy.

“He decided to quit while he was in London for Christmas,” I said, wondering why I was even bothering to elaborate. She would never believe me.

As predicted, she ignored me and went off on another sickening rant about how wonderful it would be if Rob and Kris got together in real life. “It would be like a fairy tale come true. They’re so sweet together, don’t you think?”

 _Fairy tale? Sweet??_ Only someone on the outside looking in would consider this situation a nice bedtime story. I should have ignored her, but I just couldn’t let that one pass.

“It would be a disaster,” I snapped. “Think about it. If they got together and then they started fighting or, God forbid, they broke up, this whole franchise would fall apart. Do you really think Summit would take a chance on that happening?” Jess was frowning because, apparently, she’d never considered that angle. “Besides, Kristen is a first class bitch. She’s the farthest thing from sweet there is. He can do better.”

Her reaction was straight out of a classic gothic horror movie. You would have thought I was a knife wielding psycho coming at her with blood dripping out of my mouth. Her jaw fell to the floor, her eyes got really wide. After a few seconds, they narrowed into evil, icy blue slits. Her mouth thinned into an angry line. I barely recognized her as the bubbly friend I’d known since Kindergarten.

“That’s a mean thing to say about someone you don’t even know,” she sneered. “I respect Kristen. She’s amazing. She’s bold and confident and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her. She does her own thing and says ‘fuck you’ to whoever doesn’t like it. I admire her for that. She’s strong and men respect strong women. You’re wrong. She’d be perfect for Rob.”

“Perfect??” I squawked, ignoring that inner voice that told me I should just shut up, that arguing with Jess was wasted oxygen. “A cheating, manipulative, lying bitch is how you define perfect??”

It went downhill from there.

“Why do you care?? You don’t care anything about Twilight anymore. You used to be on the internet all the time, reading every one of Rob’s interviews, looking at the pictures, printing them out and putting them all over your walls, fangirling over the next film. Your mom, too. Now, both of you act like you don’t give one big shit about it. It’s like you’re over it or something, but I’m NOT over it! I like it! I like Kristen and I think her and Rob should get together! I’m fucking outta here!”

She stalked from my room; the walls trembled from the fury in her door slam. It felt like I’d just lost my best friend, and all over a stupid low-budget movie and a bunch of people whom she didn’t even know.

And I thought I was done with crying.

\-----------------------------------------------------

He called the evening of March 27th, a date that I circled in red on my Twilight calendar, because it was the longest conversation we’d had since I’d left Vancouver. He was at a nightclub called Richard’s on Richards, enjoying some rare down time. He sounded tired, as usual, but the longer we talked, the happier he seemed to get. The filming was progressing on schedule, even though he confessed that tensions were running high because of the looming deadline. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he mentioned Kristen’s diva behavior on set. The clashes between her and Chris were setting everyone’s teeth on edge.

“I wish you were here with me.”

And of course, as soon as he said it, my eyes filled up with those useless tears that were supposed to be a waste of my time. I wanted to ask if she was there with him, but I bit back the question. If she was, I’d hear about it tomorrow or the next day. I had no delusions that Jess could stay mad at me that long. She’d be at my house gushing over the pictures of his evening at Richard’s as soon as they appeared on the internet. So, I kept quiet, determined not to let Kristen Stewart ruin our conversation.

“So do I,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.

The last thing he needed was to deal with my guilt, along with all the other shit he was dealing with. And yes, there was guilt; I had a crap load of it. I’d had to leave for my own sanity, but at times, my leaving felt a whole lot like desertion, especially when we talked and I heard the sadness creep into his voice. _You should be there with him._ That nagging little voice kept worrying at me constantly. _You left and that bitch won. She has him all to herself now because you cut and run. You should have stayed and been there for him. He needs you, Abby. You’re his normal, not her._

But my mother’s voice was just as strong. Her angry words fought with my guilty ones: ‘You did the right thing by coming home. It’s disgusting and unconscionable what Summit is doing. I don’t want you involved with unscrupulous people like them. I don’t even know how I’m going to stomach sitting through New Moon after this. You did the right thing, honey. If you’d stayed, you would have ended up being Kristen’s doormat, having to take her abuse and no one, not even Rob, being able to stop her. But I know you. You wouldn’t have taken that shit from her, and Rob would have ended up stuck in the middle between you two, trying to keep the peace. You both would have been miserable, honey. Eventually you would have ended up back here anyway. Better to get out of that mess now, instead of later.’

It was a constant battle inside my mind as to who was right: my guilty conscience or my mother?

“I’m hoping I can catch a day off before we go to Italy. If I can get away, I want to see you.”

But that wasn’t until May, and this was March. I didn’t point that out to him, but instead I indulged in his fantasy of us renting an out-of-the-way cottage somewhere, away from the media’s prying eyes, and spending the entire day and night together. We talked about what we would eat, what movie we might watch, but most importantly, how we would love. He asked, with a laugh in his voice, if I had any new lemons I needed testing. I assured him that I could whip up one in no time flat, especially if I was going to be in the company of my official lemon tester for a whole night.

“I think I might try that BDSM thing on you. At least with those handcuffs on, you couldn’t get away from me.”

He was joking, or at least he tried to make it sound that way, but I could read between the lines. I knew what he was really saying. If we managed to get together before he left for Italy, would I leave him again? Or maybe that was just my guilt again, reading too much into his words.

“Shit, my fucking battery is going dead. I’ll find a charger somewhere around here and try to call you back.”

“If you can, that’s great. But if you can’t…” I had to stop and get my act together. I was NOT going to disintegrate into a blubbering mess on the phone, and make him feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault. “If you can’t, just call me when you can. It’s okay and I love you.”

He said the same thing back to me and then seconds later he was gone. _Back to reality, Abby._

_\---------------------------------_

**~ ROB ~**

_**Vancouver, Washington ~ Saturday, March 28, 2009** _

“So, I hear you were at a nightclub last night. Apparently you were papped by one of your adoring fans while attempting to have a fucking private life. And OMG, you were seen drinking.” She rolled her eyes and snickered. “You were in a bar. Duh. These people are idiots. And you were also seen talking the night away on your phone. Anyone I know?”

It was 4 am in the morning, and I was in no mood to play mind-fuck games with Kris. I had a headache from a night of too much beer, too much reminiscing about Bella, and not enough sleep. It was only luck that I had a short day on set today.

“I was talking to Bella.” I pried my feet into my shoes to avoid bending over and getting a head-pound for my efforts. _Fuck the shoelaces._

And while I finished getting ready, Kristen followed me through the suite, peppering me with questions that were none of her fucking business. How was Bella? Was she coming up for a visit anytime soon? Was she going to Italy with me? Like I’d let her go, even if she wanted to. Italy was going to be a feeding frenzy. We’d already been warned by our PR teams. All of the hotels within a hundred mile radius of Montepulciano were already booked solid a full two months ahead of our arrival date.

“You know, if she really loved you, she’d be here.”

I felt the heat of my temper moving up my neck. My mouth opened of its own accord. “You’re just a little fucking ray of sunshine this morning, aren’t you?”

“Just making an observation,” she said, shrugging.

I hated this separation, and having to listen to Kris’s periodic “observations” about my personal life was starting to get on my last fucking nerve. The fact that I had to work closely with her on three more films was the only thing stopping me from having a complete meltdown with her. Bella had her reasons for leaving, and I understood them completely. No ordinary person should have to put up with this kind of manipulative shit in their lives. At least I was getting paid for it.

 _But if she really loved you, how could she have just left like that?_ I spit toothpaste into the sink wishing I could spit my doubts out of my mind just as easily. I hated Kristen for even planting them there in the first place. Bella did really love me. She just couldn’t ignore the effect all of this fake PR shit would have on her and on our relationship. She had a right to make her own decisions about her life, for Christ’s sake.

 _‘It was kind of selfish for her to only think of herself, don’t you think? What about you and what you needed?’_ Another one of Kristen’s ‘observations’ that I couldn’t get out of my mind. I felt guilty enough already without giving into my own selfish feelings. None of this would have happened if not for me and my stubborn need to keep her a secret. If I’d have just let her stand beside me in public as my girlfriend, we’d be together right now, instead of separated by miles of loneliness. But no, it was my selfishness that had inadvertently played right into Summit’s hands. I angrily ran a dollop of gel through my hair and then left the room. Kristen followed.

She approached me as I started to put on my coat, laying a hand on my arm, her green eyes softening. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I’m being a bitch again. It’s just, I love you, Rob, and I hate seeing you unhappy. I don’t understand how someone could walk away from you. If we were together, I’d never walk away.”

I laughed, and it was a bitter sound. “You’ve already walked away once, remember?”

She looked like she’d been slapped, and I immediately felt bad for bringing up the past.

“You’re right. I did, and it was a huge mistake. I admitted that and I’m sorry. I can’t go back and change what happened.” She raised her chin, and the hurt disappeared from her face as quickly as it had appeared. “But, if I ever get another chance with you, I won’t make that mistake again.”

She stood on tiptoes and lightly kissed my cheek, then left my suite without another word.

**ME AT RICHARD'S ON RICHARDS (ON MY PHONE)**

 

 


	45. Disconnected

**~ BELLA ~**

_**Vancouver, Washington ~April 10, 2009** _

 

“He was at her birthday party.” I knew what Jess was hinting, with that sly grin and smirk. But just because Robert was at Kristen’s birthday party did not mean they were a couple.

“They all go to each other’s birthday parties,” I said, careful to keep my voice icicle-free. “Number one, because they’re friends, and number two, because of the publicity. This is Summit’s way of keeping their franchise in the news. Public Relations 101, Jess.”

She frowned, as I’d known she would. “This is not public relations; this is real-life love. Someone even came up with the perfect name for what this is: Robsten.”

 _Robsten??_ I fought to keep my jaw off the floor. I’d never heard that word before that moment. My manuscript commanded nearly all of my attention now. I rarely had time to leisurely surf the internet for the latest Twilight news. My first thought was how thoroughly Robert was going to loathe that moniker. He despised “RPattz”, and I could only imagine what he would think of something as stupid and contrived as “Robsten”.

“What about Michael?” I asked, attempting to punch a hole in Jess’s fantasy world. “They were all over the tabloids a few weeks ago cavorting in public for the paps.”  

Actually, I’d laughed out loud in the checkout line at those pictures. They were totally staged, and Kristen was nothing but a fake. She had absolutely no interest in Michael anymore. She’d set her sights on someone else’s man: mine. What I didn’t know was why she’d bothered staging such a stupid performance to begin with. Poor Michael. I wondered if he’d even suspected he was being used. Summit had to have had a shit fit over the pictures—a Michael/Kristen romance definitely didn’t fit into their new marketing plan—but thankfully that wasn’t my problem anymore. Besides, I knew where Robert’s loyalties lay. He’d actually called me beforehand to let me know he was going to Kristen’s birthday party so I wouldn’t be blind-sided by pap pictures.

_“When one of those fuckers gets in my face—and I know they will—I’m going to give them a thumbs-up. When you see that on the internet, it means ‘This is for you, Bella. The girl I love.’ Make sure you look for that picture, okay?”_

I’d taken a rare break this morning and had found it without any trouble—a thumbs-up just for me, from the sweetest guy in the whole world.

Jess sniffed. “Her and Michael are just good friends now, and that has nothing to do with her relationship with Rob.”

I sighed, knowing that talking to Jess about the true nature of her current female idol was like trying to explain calculus to a kindergartner. She was going to believe whatever she wanted about Kristen and Robert and with absolutely no proof to back up her claims. Sometimes I envied her the fantasy Twilight world she, and other fangirls like her, lived in: the one where Kristen was a sweet and innocent Bella-like girl who’d fallen hopelessly in love with her romantic leading man; the one where Robert was a flawless and beautiful man who would never be so gullible as to believe the lies of his co-star; that fantasy world where the word “Robsten” meant true love, pure and unsullied by the gritty reality of Hollywood.

The real Twilight world was all about money and manipulation, fame and loneliness. That was the one I lived in, the one Robert lived in, and it sucked.

\----------------------------------

_**Vancouver, Washington ~ Saturday evening, April 18, 2009** _

Mom yelled from the kitchen, asking me to answer the front door. Since I was doing nothing particularly inspiring—just staring blankly at the words on my computer screen—I figured a break wouldn’t hurt. I dashed down the stairs and slung open the door, and not in any dimension, alternate or otherwise, did I expect to find Mike Allen standing on my porch, looking all shy, with his hands jabbed deep into his jeans pockets.

“Hey, can I come in?”

“Sure.” I stepped aside, shutting the door while he shed his jacket and hung it up.

“Oh my god, you got a sleeve!” I could only see his forearm dangling out of his black short-sleeved t-shirt, but the design was stunning. I really wanted to see the rest, but that would have meant him taking off his shirt. I wasn’t sure how much mental preparation I’d need for that—Mike was on the small side of skinny and the very light side of pale—so I let it go.

He nodded. “It’s a horse skull, and you would have known that if you’d kept in touch. Where the hell have you been, Ab?” he asked as we made our way up the stairs.

I was explaining about my manuscript when we entered the kitchen, that I’d finally transitioned from talking about being a writer to actually being a writer. Along with my school work, my manuscript pretty much consumed all of my free time.

Mom welcomed him warmly. She’d always liked Mike, while my dad had never passed up an opportunity to voice his opinion on Mike’s numerous piercings. ‘There ought to be some kind of law’, he’d mumble and then quickly leave the room. Mike had never taken offense. He’d just grinned and rolled his eyes.

Mom bustled around the room preparing dinner, and of course, she had no problem sticking her nose into my private biz while doing so. “Abby’s turned into a hermit, Mike,” my mom said, giving me that stern parental look that I hated. “She never goes anywhere anymore, never has any fun. She stays hunched over that computer screen half the day and night. It’s a wonder she isn’t blind, as much as she stares at it.”

“Mom.”

She ignored my warning and continued. “How long has it been since you did anything fun outside of this house?” she demanded, hands on hips.

I thought back to the last night Robert and I had spent together in Canada, the night before I’d made the conscious decision to back out of his life. It had been an amazing night of quiet intimacy. I hadn’t had any fun since.

“Exactly!” mom exclaimed. “It’s been so long you have to actually stop and think about it.” She turned to Mike. “You need to take her out somewhere tonight, and don’t bring her home until she actually laughs out loud.”

He snickered and I glared. “Mo-om.” Teenagers were experts at turning innocent one-syllable words like ‘mom’ into a multi-syllable whiny sentence. And mothers were experts at ignoring them.

“I was actually about to try and do that very thing, Mrs. Anderson,” Mike said, grinning up at my mom and then turning his attention to me. “I want to talk to you about something really important.”

And of course I couldn’t say no to Mike and his black-mascara puppy dog eyes. I forced myself not to sigh and tried to look on the bright side. At least my raging writer’s block would get a rest for the night. Maybe Mike would inspire me? Weirder things had happened.

“Let me get a jacket and my phone.”

I started to get up, but Mike shook his head. “Jacket, yes. Phone, no.” He sounded emphatic. “I want some quality face-time with the person who used to be my best chick friend. No offense to the geeks of the world, but I don’t want to compete with your electronics tonight.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, turned it off and laid it on the table.

Leaving my phone meant being out of touch with Robert. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of being disconnected from him, even for one evening. This time I didn’t hold back my sigh.  “Fine. Just let me get my jacket, then.” I could send him a quick text while hunting for my jacket, to let him know where I’d be.

“Oh, here you go, honey,” said my suddenly (and suspiciously) efficient mother, smiling brightly, my jacket dangling from her hand. “Hurry along now, you two.”

 _Hurry along now, you two??_ She sounded just like June Cleaver. As Mike grabbed me by the elbow, practically dragging me down the stairs, I began to suspect that I’d been set up.

\---------------------------------------------------

  
“So, you’re going totally goth now?” I asked while we waited for our burgers to arrive at the table. I hadn’t mentioned his hair before, but going from blonde to jet black was something you just couldn’t ignore for an entire evening without commenting on it.

“With this baby face I had to do something. That blonde hair made me look like a prep, and you know I am the farthest thing from a prep there is.”

It seemed to me that the facial piercings and the tats would have cleared that issue right up for those in doubt. His new, raven black hair was just a minor piece of punctuation at the end of a very unique and bold sentence. But I didn’t care what his hair looked like, or that he had piercings. Mike’s beauty as a person went far deeper than his outward appearance. His poetry spoke to my heart, and always had.

“Do you like it?” he asked hesitantly.

I smiled. “Of course I like it.”

Pink tinged his cheeks, and he quickly changed the subject. “Thanks. I have a very big favor to ask you.”  We leisurely ate our burgers and fries while he told me about an upcoming writers’ retreat that he wanted to attend. The high school was sponsoring a weekend-long event for its seniors, in cooperation with the Hugo House in Seattle.

“It’s just a small group of us going, and since you’re homeschooled, I was afraid you hadn’t heard about it.” He took a deep breath; he looked nervous, which seemed out of character for Mike. He’d always seemed so comfortable in his own skin. “I’d really like it if you’d go with us. Would you at least consider it?”

I didn’t even have to think twice about it. “I’d love to go. It sounds fun. When is it?”

He visibly relaxed, his eyes dancing with excitement. “It starts Friday, May the 15th. They have a bunch of workshops scheduled all that day, and then on Saturday they’re going to have some indies there to give us advice about getting published. They’re also having a poetry performance thing on Saturday night. I really want to do that, but I’m scared shitless, which is why I want you there. I mean, I think I can do it, that is if I can look out into the audience and see you. Maybe I won’t shit my pants if you just smile while I’m performing. You know, you’ve always been my biggest fan. Jesus, it’s going to be fucking amazing and scary at the same time!”

When he finally ran out of breath, he was grinning for all he was worth, and so was I. His energy was contagious, but so was his nervousness. Sitting in a dark room in front of a computer screen, pouring your heart and soul out to Microsoft Word was one thing. It was safe. But outing yourself to a room full of people whose job it was to gauge your skill was quite another. It was damned scary and not safe at all.

He seemed to sense what I was feeling. “You’ve always wanted to be a writer, and I’ve always wanted to be a poet,” he said softly. “We have to take the first steps, Ab. But maybe if we take them together, we won’t fall on our asses. And even if I do fall on my ass, I don’t think it’ll hurt as bad with you there.”

 _You are not going to cry._ Oh, but I wanted to so badly. Mike had a way about him that made me feel comfortable and safe, and that hadn’t changed. I realized in that moment that I missed him so much. He was easy to talk to, always had been, and I wanted to just open my mouth and let all the hurt of the past months gush out of me and onto his understanding shoulders. And as sweet as he was, he’d accept the burden and do everything in his power to make me feel better. That was just how Mike Allen rolled. But that would be totally selfish of me, because it was obvious that Mike was on the verge of taking a big, scary step in his life, and he’d reached out to me for support this time.

“Nope. Sorry, no sadness allowed in this conversation,” he announced in an authoritative voice. “I’m under strict orders not to bring you home until you laugh.”

I sighed, not really feeling the whole laughing thing.

“Do you remember that poem I wrote for you in the sixth grade?” he asked. “The one about friends? It was my free verse masterpiece, if I recall. I doubt I’ll ever top it.” He cleared his throat.

 _“Friends are like wedgies._  
_They know your inner self._  
_They’re intimately close._  
_And it feels great when you pick out a good one.”_

And the memories of that sixth grade year came flooding back: the day I’d found that ridiculous poem stuffed in the slats of my locker. I’d rolled my eyes at it back then, thinking it not even worth a snicker. Now, in a burger joint and years away from the “maturity” of sixth grade, I giggled. He grinned. And then that giggle turned into a laugh. He laughed with me. And then we both totally lost it.

After a couple of glares and curious stares from the people around us, we managed to stop laughing, mostly. We finished our food and chatted about mundane things, picking at the crumbs on our plate as we reminisced and caught up on each other’s lives. A random snicker still found its way into our quiet conversation.

“So, I guess since you laughed, I have to take you home now?”

I couldn’t read his feelings in his face or his eyes, which was unusual for Mike. He’d always been easy to figure out, at least for me. I decided on the spur of the moment that I wasn’t ready to go home. I was having fun and I didn’t want it to end.

“I don’t recall mom stating specifically that I had to come home after only one laugh. Do you?”

His blank expression morphed into a pleased smile. “Nope, she didn’t. So, you want to take in a movie?” I nodded. “Any preference?”

“Surprise me.”

\--------------------------------------

**~ ROB ~**

_**Vancouver, Canada ~ Saturday evening, April 18, 2009** _

 

“Let me guess. Bella.”

I ignored Kristen and called Bella again. I stared out the cab window into the darkness of Vancouver, and listened to her voice mail pick up for the millionth time tonight. I was starting to get really worried.

“I’ve been trying to get hold of her all night, but it’s going to voice mail. That’s not like her.”

“Maybe she’s on a date. Ever thought of that?” Kristen had been a bitch all night—which was partly Nikki’s fault and partly mine—and my patience with her smart-assed remarks was growing thinner by the minute. This cab was suddenly way too small and going entirely too slow to suit me.  “She’s pretty, single, and hundreds of miles away from you. There’s probably some guy there who sees a golden opportunity and he’s going for it.”

I wanted to tell her to just shut her mouth and keep her opinions to herself, but a public argument in a cab was the last thing we needed. So, I let it go, forcing myself to remember the kind of girl Bella was. She wasn’t the cheating type. No way would she ever do that to me.

“Long distance relationships rarely work out,” she added. “I doubt this one will be any different.”

“Thank you, Dr. Fucking Phil,” I snapped.

“Boy, somebody needs to get laid,” she said snidely. “Which is another problem with long distance relationships, and the main reason they don’t work out. I have a suggestion. Why don’t you just fuck one of your screaming groupies, you know, to take the edge off? Them maybe the rest of the world can stand to be around your hateful ass for more than five minutes at a time.”

“Why don’t you just mind your own business and drop it??” I countered just as snidely as her.

Thankfully, our cab pulled into the hotel parking lot before she could snap something back at me.

“That’s just fucking great!” she said angrily. “Fucking assholes!”  I followed her gaze. Paps were hanging around the dark edges of the parking lot, like vultures waiting to safely swoop in on a dead carcass on the road.

“We’ll give them one picture and then get the hell inside,” I said, hoping Kristen would listen. “Remember, keep your head down and don’t look at them. Ignore whatever they say and don’t give them anything to sell to those rags. Just let it slide off your back, okay?”

She nodded and I breathed a sigh of relief. The paps were pond scum and not worthy of acknowledgment, but Kristen was becoming increasingly hostile toward them and it was getting harder for Summit to control her. For the moment, she seemed to listen to me, which was fine with the PR guys, as long as it continued.  We gave them their picture, but that was never enough for these pricks. We made our way through the blinding flashes of light and the whirring sound of our lives being digitally captured for the enjoyment of total strangers. Their taunts followed us, and the hotel entrance felt like it was miles away.

“Going in for a little midnight delight?” Laughter and a flash.

“Kristen, are the rumors true? Did you dump Michael for Rob?” Whir.

“Rob, what do think about the new name for you two?” Flash.

And for the first time in a very long while, I broke my own rule of ignoring the paps. “What name is that?”

The pap seemed shocked that I’d actually spoken to him, but he recovered his “professionalism” pretty quickly.  “They’re calling you guys Robsten. What do you think of that name?”

 _Robsten?? What the ever loving fuck??!_ My temper awoke with a vengeance, but luckily the entrance was just a few feet away. We ducked inside the safety of the lobby where the paps couldn’t go.

“Fucking assholes,” Kristen muttered under breath.

“You got that right,” I said, gritting my teeth so my fury couldn’t form itself into words.  The second the elevator doors closed, I let it all out. “What the hell is this Robsten shit and where did it come from??”

She stared at the elevator doors, saying nothing and refusing to look at me. Warning bells started going off inside my head.

“Kris? Where did it come from?” I asked again.

She sighed and managed to shift her gaze from the doors to the floor. “Our PR teams came up with it and planted it in just the right place so it’d spread.”

I dropped my head back against the elevator wall and cursed softly under my breath. By the time the doors slid open on our floor, I’d put two and two together and had come up with fucking four. “It’s because of you and Mike, and that ridiculous farce you put on for the paps, isn’t it?”

Her silence was answer enough. In one of her increasingly characteristic fits of rebellion against Summit’s control, she’d rang him up, invited him to the set, and had proceeded to drape herself all over him in public, knowing full well she’d get papped, and also knowing full well how much it would piss off the PR department. A Mike and Kristen romance wasn’t part of the New Moon marketing strategy. I’d suspected at the time that the performance had been for my benefit more than Summit’s. I couldn’t be sure, of course, and I was definitely not going to ask, but it had all the markings of an attempt to make me jealous or something equally juvenile. Or perhaps she’d just been doing what she seemed to do best: making waves and then stepping back to watch the ripples.

Regardless of what the reason was, that didn’t change the fact that I utterly loathed that word, as well as whoever had come up with it. And I was going to have to listen to it for at least four more years.

“I’m hitting the bed,” I said as we walked down the hall, effectively cutting off any thought she might have had of coming to my room and continuing our argument. I planned on calling Bella one more time, and if I didn’t get her, I was done trying, at least for tonight.

\---------------------------------------------------

Hitting the bed and actually sleeping were two different things. After trying to reach Bella and getting her voice mail again, I brushed my teeth, dropped my clothes in the floor and fell into bed. Now I was staring at the darkened ceiling, thinking about what Nikki had said back at the concert, and wondering why we rarely hung out anymore. She seemed to be the only person in mine and Bella’s corner.

_“I just heard the most ridiculous rumor.”_

We were on a bathroom break, hanging out in a quiet place away from the loud music and nursing our beers.

_“I heard that you guys are going to pretend to be a couple just for publicity. Is that true??”_

That was the moment that Kris completely checked out of the conversation. She pulled back and looked at everything and everyone but me and Nikki, keeping her mouth shut for once, and leaving me high and dry to explain the unexplainable. I told Nikki it was true, and then, as quickly and succinctly as possible, I summarized everything that had led up to that decision.

_“You’re really going to be a part of this sham???” She looked to Kris for an answer and got a shrug instead. She turned back to me. “What about you and Bella? You guys love each other. You can’t do this, Rob. You can’t.”_

I explained to her that I had no choice, and she spent quite a bit of time explaining to me why it was wrong, but she was preaching to the choir with me, and Kristen wasn’t even listening. Or at least that’s what I’d thought at the time. After Nikki finally realized there was no point in the discussion—Summit was going to do whatever the hell they wanted no matter what we thought—she left to watch the rest of the concert. That was when Kristen’s incessant bitching had started. And it had continued the rest of the evening, concluding in the cab ride home.

I was so tired of thinking about it, talking about it. I just wanted to hear Bella’s voice. I wanted to talk to my normal…

\-------------------------------------------------------

  
My ring tone jarred me out of a deep sleep. I blindly fumbled for my phone, heard it thump to the floor, cursed and fumbled around for it some more and then finally connected the call. It was Bella.

“You’ve been trying to get me all evening. I’m so sorry, Robert. Are you okay? Is everything all right??”

It was now. I exhaled in relief, sank back into the pillow and listened to her profuse apology for not answering my calls. I stiffened when she told me why. She’d been out with a friend all night, a _male_ friend—dinner and a movie. _Is Kris right?_ She must have sensed something wrong in the silence between us.

“You remember me talking about Mike? The guy with the piercings and tattoos who writes poetry? We’ve been friends since kindergarten. We’re just buds, Robert. We haven’t seen each other in a while, so we just spent an evening together catching up.”

I mentioned the fact that she could have texted me and let me know her plans so I wouldn’t have worried, and then I immediately wanted to stuff the words back in my stupid mouth. I sounded like a jealous little fourteen-year-old. Fuck. Who was I kidding? I was jealous as hell and there was no reason to deny it.

“If I sound jealous, then it’s because I am,” I said, not even trying to keep the frustration from my voice. “I spent the evening at a concert at Metropole, which probably sounds fun, but when you have Kristen bitching in your ear most of the night, it really isn’t. Sometimes there just isn’t enough beer.” I added a snide snicker, but it came out sounding pathetically sad. I sighed into the phone, ashamed of what I was feeling. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. I’m tired and just sick of all this. Sorry.”

She accepted my apology, as I’d known she would. She forgave me everything, no matter what stupid thing I said or did. I loved her, and I just wanted to be with her, but apparently that was too much to ask for in this life. So, I satisfied myself with closing my eyes and listening to her talk. She told me about a writing workshop she was going to go to next month, and I told her how happy I was for her. I reminded her that I was flying to Italy next month and hoped we could get together at least for a few hours before I left.

Then I remembered why I’d tried to get in touch with her to begin with: to let her know that I was going to be at a concert with Kristen. But after what had transpired in the parking lot with the paps, there was a lot more she needed to know.

“I wanted to let you know that Kris and I got papped at the hotel, and judging by the dumb shit they yelled at us, it’s hard to tell what the rags are going to say tomorrow. I just wanted you to be prepared. Whatever they say, it isn’t true. Kris and I parted ways in the hall. She’s not here in my room with me, and we’re not together, no matter what they say.”

_Why the hell am I telling her this?? Is this all we’re going to be talking about every single time we speak to each other for the next four years?_

She laughed and the sound soothed my worries. She told me she loved, trusted me, and never in a million years would she ever believe a single word a tabloid printed about me. Then she asked me about “Robsten”, and I immediately went on a long rant about how idiotic the term was, how offensive, how it wasn’t true, and how I’d like to put a bullet into the head of the person who had come up with it. I left out the part about it probably being Kristen’s fault, because that was past the point of fixing. Now we just had to deal with it.

“I love you, Robert. I miss you.”

I knew her well enough to know she was crying, even though she was pretending everything was okay.

“I love you too, and there’s no way in hell you could miss me more than I miss you.”

We talked for awhile longer about random, inconsequential things, until neither one of us could keep our eyes open. We finally, and reluctantly, said our goodbyes.

Before I gave into the exhaustion, I made a vow to myself that just because we were separated by distance didn’t mean I was going to let Bella drift away from me, nor was I going to allow Kristen, Summit, or the tabloid rags define our relationship. Starting tomorrow, she was going to have a hard time putting Robert Pattinson out of her mind.

**KRISTEN'S "FAKE" OUTING WITH MICHAEL**

 

 

**BELLA's POET FRIEND, MIKE**


	46. The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I stated at the beginning of the very first chapter, this story is no longer being updated, but I am going to provide a summary of the ending I envisioned for these characters when I started it back in early 2009. This final chapter is it...

**^^ This image, (taken on a tarmac in Paris in November 2009) was the final straw that broke up Rob and Bella's long-distance relationship.**

Bella's friend, Jess, couldn't wait to show this picture to her, proving (in her mind) that Rob and Kristen were together in real life.  Bella was immediately suspicious, because this obviously wasn't a staged photo op for New Moon publicity. This was taken late at night and from a distance away, probably by a photographer with a telephoto lens, as they wouldn't be allowed on the actual tarmac of an airport. Bella quickly put two and two together and realized that Rob had fallen victim to Kristen's emotional manipulations once again. They were a couple _again._

To make a _very_ long story short, she broke all ties with him over this one photograph. Their breakup wasn't an extremely bitter one, but it wasn't a friendly one either. She was deeply hurt and disillusioned with him.  He was angry, hurt, and feeling like she'd abandoned him emotionally.  After the break up, they didn't see or speak to each other while the rest of the films were being made. 

During the time of _Eclipse_ and the 2 parts of _Breaking Dawn_ , Bella got on with her life. She completed college and earned a degree in Journalism with an English concentration.  She continually wrote and submitted her work to anyone who would read it, but she struggled— as many new writers do—to get her foot in the door of the publishing world.  Mike was a big part of her life back then—they were briefly romantically involved, but soon realized that their friendship meant more than the physical aspect of their relationship.

And then along came the Breaking Dawn cheating scandal.  *sigh*  What a complete cluster fuck that whole mess was.  (In the fandom world _AND_ in real life!)

I imagined Jess going completely berserk when it happened, defending Kristen to the death and trashing Rob all to hell as being a closet philanderer himself.  There was no way Bella could avoid knowing about it with her best friend being such a fanatical Twihard.  Surprisingly, she was intensely saddened by the whole thing.  She knew what kind of person Kristen was; she'd tried to warn Rob, but, like Kristen had said, 'She was under his skin.'  Bella knew in her heart that Rob was profoundly hurt, ashamed and embarrassed, and she thought about reaching out to him, but in the end, she decided against it.  That part of her life was in the past. 

As for Rob....

In my story, the cheating scandal, and the way Summit handled it, was the last straw for him.  In my mind (and I have no idea what REALLY happened, you understand), he was forced to reconcile with her to save the PR part of the film.  I know that watching them together during that final promotional tour was sheer torture for lots of fans. The tension between them was obvious and Rob often looked outright angry with her, like he could barely tolerate standing beside her. MY Rob was counting the days until the whole thing was over and he was contractually free of Summit forever. And he stayed true to his promise: he left acting after Breaking Dawn, Part 2.  He decided to concentrate his talents elsewhere: his music, and he dabbled in creating his own clothing line, which is funny, because it was just announced a few days ago (June 2016) that Rob was going to design his own clothing in cooperation with Dior.

The final scene in this story was to take place in New York City. Bella was there attending a writer's conference.  On a lunch break, she decided to strike off on her own and explore the streets around the conference area. She ends up in a little tiny diner squeezed in between two unrelated businesses. It's obviously a "locals" kind of place.  She settles in for lunch and a little people watching. (Writers love to do that.) 

Guess who walks in....

Rob is in town, taking care of some business with the music side of his life, and he walks in this diner and his past hits him right in the face...in a _good_ way.  It's kind of cliche-y the way I envision it, but they see each other, and it's as if all the shit that happened between them never happened.  The chemistry is still there. The love is still there.  She invites him to sit with her.  They start talking.  She doesn't go back to her writer's conference that day. They end up talking long into the night. A lot of anger, hurt and tears come out of both of them, but in the end, they realize that everything that had been in the way of their love before, was finally gone.  

They had been given another chance, and they were going to take it.  

They get together and she returns to England with him. They eventually become engaged, and then married. But no one cares by that point, certainly not the media and definitely not any fans. That part of his life is over (and he's glad of it). Rob and Bella are just a regular couple now, and are deeply in love with each other.  :)

**THE END**

 

 


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